OF  THE 


U  N  1  VERS  ITY 
Of  ILLINOIS 

177.7 
Sf48 


m 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY, 

AND 


ALBANY : 
JOEL  MUNSELL,  78  STATE  STREET. 
1855. 


S^8 


PREFACE. 


This  is  emphatically  a  book-making  age.  In  addition 
to  the  accumulated  stores  of  all  by -gone  ages,  the  press 
literally  drowns  the  reading  public  with  a  flood  of  works 
of  every  kind:  the  arts  —  sciences  —  letters  —  fictions — 
polemics  —  politics  —  medleys  —  periodicals  —  without 
number  and  without  end.  To  run  over  their  titles 
would  be  no  trifling  task;  to  peruse  the  contents  even  of 
a  single  department  would  require  not  only  years,  but 
whole  lives.  Amid  this  immensity  of  volumes,  as  far  as 
appears  from  an  extensive  examination  of  libraries  and 
catalogues,  no  work  comprehensive  as  the  present  exists. 
Perhaps,  then,  the  novel  little  book  now  offered  to  the 
public  will  not  be  deemed  obtrusive  or  useless.  Its 
theme  possesses- an  all-absorbing  importance,  an  interest, 
which  every  sense  and  every  nerve  of  man  must  per- 
ceive. What  is  humanity  but  the  substance  and  essence 
of  morality,  of  which  it  is  the  more  intelligible  and  ex- 
pressive name?  Why  are  truth  or  honesty,  justice,  tem- 
perance and  all  virtues,  admired  and  approved,  but  for 
their  being  promoters  of  happiness.  The  authorities 
here  adduced  (as  far  as  names  are  given)  are  always  re- 
spectable and  generally  of  the  highest  order.  The  work 
presents  an  array  of  the  most  eminent  clergymen, 
statesmen,  philanthropists,  philosophers,  jurists,  histo- 
rians, scholars,  and  poets,  giving  their  decided  and  con- 


X 


PREFACE. 


curring  testimony  in  favor  of  general  beneficence.  Will 
not  their  united  opinions  tend  in  various  ways  to  advance 
this  righteous  cause.  May  not  they  invite  the  attention 
and  the  aid  of  the  pulpit,  furnish  themes  for  authors — 
and  materials  and  references  for  compilers,  and  for  that 
popular  luminary,  the  periodical  press — convince  the 
indifferent  and  reform  the  offending,  where  open  argu- 
ment and  public  reproof  might  be  indelicate  or  inef- 
fectual, and  form  the  tender  minds  and  cherish  the  sympa- 
thies of  the  rising  generation  ? 

In  the  arrangement  of  the  pieces,  the  order  of  time 
has  generally  but  not  invariably  been  followed.  In 
some  instances,  words  have  been  omitted  or  altered,  for 
the  sake  of  brevity,  perspicuity  or  consistency.  These 
verbal  alterations,  it  is  believed,  the  authors  would  have 
sanctioned  and  approved.  When  explanatory  sentences 
or  words  have  been  added,  they  are  enclosed  in  brackets 
[thus].  The  words  in  Italics,  also,  are  so  printed  in  this 
work  only;  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  they  were  not 
Italicised  by  the  original  authors.  Eepetitions  of  the 
same  sentiment  occur,  of  course;  the  magnitude  of  the  sub- 
ject particularly  requires  that  there  should  be  "  line  upon 
line  and  precept  upon  precept.,,  Additions  may  here- 
after be  made  from  other  writers  or  works  of  sympathy 
and  sentiment,  as:  Madame  de  Genlis,  Father  Bougeant, 
Shenstone's  Pastorals,  Dr.  Primatt's  Sermons,  Burton's 
Lectures,  Burger's  Poems,  Cogan's  Passions,  Beattie's 
Moral  Science,  Gross's  Moral  Philosophy,  Darwin,  Byron, 
Spurzheim,  Buchannan's  Indian  Sketches,  Buck's  Theo- 
logical Dictionary,  &c,  &c. 

That  the  principle  or  practice  of  humanity  can  ever 


PREFACE.  Xi 

be  extended  too  far,  is  a  moral  impossibility.  Mew  may, 
indeed,  through  error  of  judgment,  sacrifice  a  greater 
duty,  to  a  less;  their  mistake  should  then  be  pointed  out. 
In  cruelty,  as  in  luxury  and  other  vices,  custom  and  pre- 
judice will  vary  our  opinions  of  the  precise  limit  which 
should  be  prescribed  by  moral  rectitude.  Some  senti- 
ments contained  in  this  book  may  be  deemed  fastidious 
or  whimsical  by  certain  readers,  for  instance,  by  the 
sportsmen.  But  is  there  no  difference  betvveeri  am  animal's 
suffering,  for  several  hours,  the  extreme  of  terror,  toil, 
and  pain,  or  its  being  dispatched  at  once?  Or,  between 
a  sentient  creature  lingering  in  torture  for  days,  and  at 
last  expiring  of  its  wounds,  its  young  also  perishing  with 
hunger,  or  its  being  seasonably  and  instantly  killed  by 
the  unerring  aim  of  the  rifle  or  fowling  piece?  Are 
there  not  sufficient  sources  of  exercise,  excitement  and 
amusement,  without  those  refinements  in  cruelty  which 
often  render  sports  and  barbarity  synonymous? 

The  subsequent  extracts  were  aimed  only  at  abuses.  If, 
however,  individuals  should  deem  allowable  any  of  the 
practices  censured  in  this  book,  it  is  trusted  that  they 
will  still,  by  example  and  influence,  discountenance  those 
usages  which  they  may  own  to  be  wrong;  even  as  the 
man  who  occasionally  indulges  in  a  moderate  glass,  may 
not  willingly  interpose  any  other  obstacle  to  the  temper- 
ance cause.  Intemperance,  itself,  by  stupifying  or  con- 
founding the  faculties  of  the  gentle,  and  exciting  the 
horrid  passions  of  the  brutal,  is  a  most  prolific  source 
of  cruelty.  A  volume  would  not  suffice  to  expose  the 
miseries  and  privations  which  the  helpless  animals  en- 
dure from  this  cause  alone. 


xii 


PREFACE 


The  present  state  of  society  requires  a  division  of  oc- 
cupations. If  the  butchers,  drovers,  drivers,  &c.,  aro 
not  always  the  dispensers  of  kindness  and  comfort  to 
the  sensitive  creatures  in  their  charge,  the  blame  must  be 
fully  shared  by  their  employers  and  the  public,  who  are 
the  accessories  and  abettors  of  their  criminality.  Is  it 
not  sufficient  for  man  to  absorb  the  useful  labors  and 
lives  of  the  inferior  creation,  without  superadding  ex- 
cessive anguish,  want  and  misery?  When  his  own  cup 
of  suffering  is  full  and  overflowing,  desperate  resort  to 
revolution  sometimes  rids  him  of  his  cruel  tormentors 
and  task-masters.  But  of  the  inferior  animals,  genera- 
tions after  generations  suffer  and  expire  without  any 
chance  of  relief  or  redress,  unless  it  be  granted  by  the 
generosity  and  justice  of  man.  In  a  favored  land  of 
human  freedom  from  tyranny,  the  rights  of  humanity 
have  a  peculiar  claim  on  his  protection,  and  in  their  be- 
half the  united  voice  of  the  people  should  respond  to  the 
voice  of  the  Deity. 


THE  UNIVERSALITY 

OF 

DIVINE  PKOVIDEFCE. 


Genesis,  i.  20.  And  God  said,  let  the  waters  bring 
forth  abundantly  the  moving  creature  that  hath  life, 
and  fowl  I  hat  may  fly  above  the  earth  in  the  open  firma- 
ment of  heaven. 

21,  And  God  created  great  whales,  and  every  living 
creature  that  moveth,  which  the  waters  brought  forth 
abundantly  after  their  kind,  and  every  winged  fowl  after 
his  kind:  and  God  saw  that  it  was  good. 

22.  And  God  blessed  them,  saying,  be  fruitful,  and 
multiply,  and  fill  the  waters  in  the  seas,  and  let  fowl 
multiply  in  the  earth. 

25.  And  God  made  the  beast  of  the  earth  after  his 
kind,  and  cattle  after  their  kind,  and  every  thing  that 
creepeth  on  the  earth  after  his  kind;  and  God  saw  that 
it  was  good. 

31.  And  God  saw  every  thing  that  he  had  made,  and 
behold  it  w  is  very  good 

Gen.  ix,  8.  And  God  spake  unto  Noah  and  to  his 
sons  with  him,  saying, 

8.  And  I,  behold  I  establish  my  covenant  with  you,  and 
with  your  seed  after  you. 

10.  And  with  every  living  creature  that  is  with  you, 
of  the  fowl,  of  the  cattle,  and  of  ever}'  beast  of  the 
earth  with  you,  from  all  that  go  out  of  the  ark,  to  every 
beast  of  the  earth. 

15.  And  I  will  remember  my  covenant,  which  is  be- 
tween me  and  you,  and  every  living  creature  of  all  flesh; 
and  the  waters  shall  no  more  become  a  flood  to  destroy 
all  flesh. 


xiv 


THE  UNIVERSALITY  OP 


16.  And  the  bow  shall  be  in  the  cloud,  and  I  will  look 
upon  it,  that  I  may  remember  the  everlasting  covenant 
between  God  and  every  living  creature  of  all  flesh  that  is 
upon  the  earth. 

Exodus,  xxiii,  4.  If  thou  meet  thine  enemy's  ox  or  his 
ass  going  astray,  thou  shalt  surely  bring  it  back  to  him 
again. 

5.  If  thou  see  the  ass  of  him  that  hateth  thee  lying 
under  his  burden,  and  wouldest  forbear  to  help  him,  thou 
shalt  surely  help  with  him.    [See  also  Deut.  xxii,  1,  3,4.] 

11.  The  seventh  year  thou  shalt  let  it  [the  land]  rest 
and  lie  still,  that  the  poor  of  thy  people  may  eat;  and 
what  they  leave  the  beasts  of  the  field  shall  eat. 

12.  Six  days  shalt  thou  do  thy  work,  and  on  the 
seventh  day  thou  shalt  rest;  that  thine  ox  and  thine  ass 
may  rest  and  the  son  of  thine  handmaid,  and  the  stranger, 
may  be  refreshed.    [See  also  Ex.  xx.  10;  Deut.  v,  14.] 

Numbers,  xxii,  27.  And  when  tbu  ass  saw  the  angel  of 
the  Lord,  she  fell  down  under  Balaam;  and  Balaam's  anger 
was  kindled,  and  he  smote  the  ass  with  a  staff. 

23.  And  the  Lord  opened  the  mouth  of  the  ass  and 
she  said  unto  Balaam,  What  have  I  done  unto  thee,  that 
thou  hast  smitten  me  these  three  times? 

32.  And  the  angel  of  the  Lord  said  untojiim,  Where- 
fore hast  thou  smitten  thine  ass  these  three  times  ? 
Behold  I  went  out  to  withstand  thee  because  thy  way  is 
perverse  before  me. 

33.  And  the  ass  saw  me,  and  turned  from  me  these 
three  times;  unless  she  had  turned  from  me,  surely  now 
also  I  had  slain  thee,  and  saved  her  alive. 

Deut.  xxv,  4.  Thou  shalt  not  muzzle  the  ox  when  he 
treadeth  out  the  corn. 

Psalm  1,  10.  For  every  beast  of  che  forest  is  mine, 
and  the  cattle  upon  a  thousand  hills. 

11.  I  know  all  the  fowls  of  the  mountain;  and  the 
wild  beasts  of  the  field  are  mine. 

Psalm  civ,  10.  He  sendeth  the  springs  among  the 
valleys  which  run  among  the  hills. 

11.  They  give  drink  to  every  beast  of  the  field;  the 
wild  asses  quench  their  thirst. 


DIVINE  PROVIDENCE. 


XV 


12.  By  them  shall  the  fowls  of  the  heaven  have  their 
habitation,  which  sing  among  the  branches. 

14.  He  causeth  the  grass  to  grow  for  the  cattle,  and 
herb  for  the  service  of  man;  that  he  may  bring  forth  food 
out  of  the  earth. 

16.  The  trees  of  the  Lord  are  full,  the  cedars  of 
Lebanon  which  he  hath  planted. 

17.  Where  the  birds  make  their  nests;  as  for  the 
stork  the  fir  trees  are  her  house. 

18.  The  high  hills  are  a  refuge  to  the  wild  goats,  and 
the  rocks  for  the  conies. 

20.  Thou  makest  darkness  and  it  is  night;  wherein 
all  the  beasts  of  the  forest  do  creep  forth. 

21.  The  young  lions  roar  after  their  prey,  and  seek 
their  meat  from  God. 

24.  O  Lord,  how  manifold  are  thy  works!  in  wisdom 
hast  thou  made  them  all;  the  earth  is  full  of  thy  riches. 

25.  So  is  this  great  and  wide  sea,  wherein  are  things 
creeping  innumerable,  both  small  and  great  beasts. 

26.  There  go  the  ships;  there  is  that  leviathan  whom 
thou  hast  made  to  play  therein, 

27.  These  wait  all  upon  thee,  that  thou  mayest  give 
them  their  meat  in  due  season. 

28.  That  thou  givest  them  they  gather;  thou  openest 
thine  hand,  they  are  filled  with  good. 

Psalm  cxlv,  8.  The  Lord  is  gracious,  and  full  of  com- 
passion; slow  to  anger,  and  of  great  mercy. 

9.  The  Lord  is  good  to  all;  and  his  tender  mercies 
are  over  all  his  works. 

15.  The  eyes  of  all  wait  upon  thee;  and  thou  givest 
them  their  meat  in  due  season. 

16.  Thou  openest  thine  hand,  and  satisfiest  the  desire 
of  every  living  thing. 

Prov.  xi,  17,  The  merciful  man  doeth  good  to  his 
own  soul,  but  he  that  is  cruel  troubleth  his  own  flesh. 

Prov,  xii,  17.  A  righteous  man  regardeth  the  life  of 
his  beast;  but  the  tender  mercies  of  the  wicked  are  cruel. 

Prov.  xxii,  20.  Be  not  among  wine-bibbers;  among 
riotous  eaters  of  flesh. 

21.  For  the  drunkard  and  the  glutton  shall  come  to 
poverty*    [See  Kccle.  iii,  18,  19.] 


XTi  THE   UNIVERSALITY  OF 

Prov.  xxxi,  8.  Open  thy  mouth  for  the  dumb,  in  the 
cause  of  all  such  as  are  appointed  to  destruction. 

Ezekiel,  xxxiv.  2.  Thus  sayeth  the  Lord  God  unto  the 
shepherds :  Woe  be  to  the  shepherds  of  Israel  that  do  feed 
themselves!  Should  not  the  shepherds  feed  the  flocks  ? 

4.  The  diseased  have  ye  not  strengthened,  neither 
have  ye  healed  that  which  was  sick,  neither  have  ye  bound 
up  that  which  was  broken,  neither  have  ye  brought,  again 
that  which  was  driven  away,  neither  have  ye  sought  that 
which  was  lost,  but  with  force  and  with  cruelty  have  ye 
ruled  them. 

12.  As  a  shepherd  seeketh  out  his  flock  in  the  day 
that  he  is  among  his  sheep  that  are  scattered,  so  will  I 
seek  out  my  sheep,  and  will  deliver  them  out  of  all  places 
where  they  have  been  scattered  in  the  cloudy  and  dark 
day.    [See  the  whole  chapter.] 

Jonah,  iii,  7.  And  he  caused  it  to  be  proclaimed,  and 
published  through  Nineveh,  by  the^decree  of  the  king  and 
his  nobles,  saying,  Let  neither  man  nor  beast,  herd  nor 
flock,  taste  any  thing:  let  them  not  feed  nor  drink  water. 

8.  But  let  man  and  beast.be  covered  with  sack- 
cloth, etc. 

Jonah,  iv,  11.  And  should  not  I  spare  Nineveh,  that 
great  city,  wherein  are  more  than  six  score  thousand  per- 
sons that  can  not  discern  between  their  right  hand  and 
their  left  hand;  and  also  much  cattle  ? 

St.  Matthew,  v,  7.  Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they 
shall  obtain  mercy. 

48.  Be  ye  therefore  perfect,  even  as  your  father  which 
is  in  heaven  is  perfect. 

St.  Matthew,  xii,  11.  And  he  said  unto  them,  What  man 
shall  there  be  among  you,  that  shall  have  one  sheep,  and 
if  it  fall  into  a  pit  on  the  sabbath  day,  will  he  not  lay  hold 
on  it  and  lift  it  out. 

St.  Matthew,  xviii,  7.  Woe  unto  the  world  because  of 
offences!  For  it  must  need  be  that  offences  come;  but  woe 
to  that  man  by  whom  the  offence  cometh  ! 

St.  Luke,  vi,  36.  Be  ye  therefore  merciful,  as  your 
father  also  is  merciful. 

St.  Luke,  xii,  6.  Are  not  five  sparrows  sold  for  two 
farthings  ?  and  not  one  of  them  is  forgotten  before  God  ? 


DIVINE  PROVIDENCE. 


xvii 


24  Consider  the  ravens;  for  they  neither  sow  nor 
reap:  which  have  neither  storehouse  nor  barn;  and  God 
feedelh  them.  How  much  more  are  ye  better  than  the 
fowls. 

St.  Luke,  xiv,  5.  And  [he]  answered  them,  saying, 
which  of  you  have  an  ass  or  an  ox  fallen  into  a  pit,  and 
will  not  straightway  pull  him  out  on  the  sabbath  day  ? 

St.  John,  xxi,  15.  So  when  they  had  dined,  Jesus  saith 
to  Simon  Peter,  Simon  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  me  more 
than  these  ?  He  saith  unto  him,  yea,  Lord;  thou  knowest 
that  I  love  thee.    He  saith  unto  him,  feed  my  sheep. 

16.  He  saith  unto  him  again  the  second  time,  Simon 
son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  me?  He  saith  unto  him,  yea, 
Lord;  thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee.  He  saith  unto  him, 
feed  my  sheep. 

17.  He  saith  unto  him  the  third  time,  Simon,  son  of 
Jonas,  lovest  thou  m£  ?  Peter  was  grieved,  because  he 
said  unto  him  the  third  time,  lovest  thou  me?  And  he 
said  unto  him,  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things;  thou 
knowest  that  I  love  thee.  Jesus  saith  unto  him,  feed  my 
sheep.*  / 

*  [la  the  passages  from  Ezekiel,  as  well  as  in  these  verses,  the  term 
sheep  is  allegorically  and  affectionately  applied  to  the  chosen  people. 
These  allusions  (on  a  subject  of  higher  import)  to  the  care  and  ten- 
derness with  which  the  flocks  and  herds  in  man's  charge  should  be 
treated,  as  an  acknowledged  or  self-evident  duty  and  virtue,  are  more 
strong  than  any  positive  precepts.] 


v 


THE 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


PYTHAGORAS. 

Pythagoras  was  the  inventor  of  the  monochord,  and 
first  reduced  music  to  a  science.  He  is  supposed  to  have 
discovered  the  47th  proposition  of  Euclid,  and  to  have 
invented  the  common  multiplication  table,  hence  called 
Abacus  Pythagoricus.  He  also  taught  the  true  solar 
system,  since  revived  by  Copernicus,  and  demonstrated 
by  Newton,  and  also  that  numbers  are  the  principles  of 
every  thing.  He  thought  that  the  whole  universe  was 
created  from  a  shapeless  heap  of  passive  matter,  by  a 
powerful  being,  the  mover  and  soul  of  the  world,  of  whose 
substance  the  souls  of  the  world  were  a  portion.  He 
admitted  the  four  ancient  elements,  or  modern  forms  of 
matter — lire,  air,  earth  and  water,  and,  also,  a  fifth — the 
soul  or  spirit;  a  subtile  element,  that  was  active  in  its 
own  nature,  and  put  the  others  in  motion.  These  ele- 
ments, by  variously  combining  with  each  other,  formed 
the  different  bodies  of  which  nature  is  the  aggregate  or 
assemblage.  This  system  he  derived  from  the  sages  of 
Egypt;  as  Herodotus  declares,  that  they  were  the  first 
asserters  of  the  immortality,  pure  existence,  and  trans- 
migration of  human  souls. 

Pythagoras  founded  the  Italic  school  of  philosophy, 
from  which  arose  the  Eleatic,  Heraclitic,  Epicurean,  and 
Pyrrhonic;  and  in  conjunction  with  Thales,  the  founder 
of  the  Ionic  school,  he  was  the  author  of  nearly  all  the 
science  of  Greece  and  Europe,  until  the  era  of  Francis 
Bacon. 

He  delivered  several  cities  of  Italy  and  Sicily  from  the 
9 


2 


PYTHAGORAS. 


galling  yoke  of  slavery,  and  appeased  seditions  in  others; 
he  softened  the  manners,  and  brought  to  temper  the  most 
unruly  and  savage  humors  of  different  people  and  differ- 
ent tyrants.  This  incomparable  sage,  after  his  long  pere- 
grinations in  search  of  knowledge,  settled  at  Croton,  in 
Italy,  and  spent  the  latter  part  of  his  life  in  training  up 
disciples  in  the  rigid  exercise  of  sublime  and  moral 
virtue,  and  instructing  them  in  the  true  arts  of  govern- 
ment, such  as  alone  can  insure  happiness,  glory  and  in- 
dependence. Under  his  philosophy,  the  Crotonites  inured 
their  bodies  to  temperance  and  frugality,  and  their  minds 
to  self  command  and  philanthropic  disinterestedness. 
Many  hundred  persons,  like  the  Lucurgans  at  Sparta, 
gave  over  their  effects  into  a  common  stock,  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  whole  community.  The  Pythagorean  virtues 
were  the  admiration  of  all  Greece,  where  it  was  a  current 
proverb,  that  the  last  of  the  Crotonites  was  the  first  of 
the  Greeks.  In  one  olympiad,  seven  of  the  victors  in 
the  games  were  citizens  of  Croton.  The  vigor  of  the 
men  and  beauty  of  the  women,  was  so  great,  that  the 
climate  was  supposed  to  be  endowed  with  qualities  pecu- 
liarly favorable  to  the  human  system.  When  the  Romans 
(A.  U.  C.  411)  were  commanded  by  the  oracle  at  Delphi 
to  erect  a  statue  to  the  wisest  of  the  Greeks,  they  con- 
ferred the  honor  on  Pythagoras. 

According  to  his  system,  the  purpose  of  philosophy  is 
to  free  the  mind  from  all  incumbrances,  and  elevate  it  to 
the  study  of  immutable  truth,  and  the  knowledge  of 
nature;  and  the  end  of  wisdom  is,  to  assimilate  the  hu- 
man mind  to  the  divine,  which  can  only  be  done  by  the 
practice  of  beneficence  and  truth.  This  beneficence  he 
extended  to  all  animals,  and  the  better  to  ensure  its 
practice,  he  even  recommended  total  abstinence  from 
their  flesh.  His  maxims,  from  their  intrinsic  value,  and 
their  being  arranged  in  numbers,  were  called  golden 
verses  the  following  are  specimens: 

"Do  that  which  you  think  to  be  right,  whatever  the 
vulgar  may  think  of  you;  if  you  despise  their  praise, 
disregard  also  their  censure. 

"Be  not  intimidated  by  vain  threats;  let  them  not 


PYTHAGORAS. 


3 


divert  you  from  your  laudable  purpose.  Let  uprightness 
influence  you  in  all  your  actions,  and  be  sincere  in  what- 
ever you  say. 

"Do  nothing  mean  in  the  presence  of  others,  nor  in 
secret;  but  let  it  be  your  chief  law,  to  respect  yourself. 

"  It  is  better  that  others  should  respect  you,  than  that 
they  should  fear  you;  for  esteem  accompanies  respect, 
but  fear  is  attended  by  hatred. 

"  To  give  a  child  the  best  education,  send  it  to  live  in 
a  well  regulated  state.  Let  youth  be  instructed  in  the 
best  course  of  life,  and  habit  will  render  it  the 'most 
pleasant.  Reproof  and  correction  are  only  useful  when 
accompanied  with  evident  marks  of  the  affection  of  the 
parent  or  teacher. 

"  Sobriety  or  temperance  is  the  real  strength  of  mind; 
for  it  preserves  reason  unclouded  by  passion. 

"  No  man  is  free,  who  has  not  the  command  over 
himself,  but  submits  himself  to  the  tyranny  of  his'' pas- 
sions." 

"  Let  not  soft  slumbers  close  your  eyes, 
Before  you've  recollected  thrice 
Your  train  of  actions  through  the  day, 
And  where  your  thoughts  have  traced  their  way. 
What  have  I  learned,  where'er  I've  been, 
From  all  I've  heard,  from  all  I've  seen? 
What  know  I  more,  that's  worth  the  knowing? 
What  have  1  done  that's  worth  the  doing? 
What  have  I  sought  that  I  should  shun? 
What  duty  have  I  left  undone? , 
Or  into  what  new  follies  run?" 

As  Pythagoras  employed  his  influence  in  urging  the 
people  to  the  strenuous  assertion  of  their  rights  against 
the  encroachments  of  their  tyrannical  governors;  they, 
in  revenge,  raised  a  powerful  opposition,  and  compelled 
him  to  seek  an  asylum  in  the  temple  of  the  muses  at 
Metapontum,  where  he  perished  with  hunger. — Encyclo- 
pedia, Sec. 


4 


PYTHAGORAS  AND  PLUTARCH. 


PYTHAGORAS  AND  PLUTARCH. 

When  we  bring  Plutarch  to  the  school  of  Pythagoras, 
what  idea  shall  we  entertain  of  him?  Shall  we  consider 
him  any  longer  as  an  academician,  or  as  a  citizen  of  the 
philosophical  world?  Constitutionally  benevolent  and 
humane;  he  finds  a  system  of  divinity  and  philosophy 
perfectly  adapted  to  his  natural  sentiments.  The  whole 
animal  creation  he  had  originally  looked  upon  with  an 
instinctive  tenderness:  but  when  the  amiable  Pythagoras, 
the  priest  of  nature,  in  defence  of  the  common  privileges 
of  her  creatures,  had  called  religion  into  their  cause; 
when  he  sought  to  soften  the  cruelty  which  man  had  ex- 
ercised against  them,  by  the  honest  art  of  insinuating  the 
doctrine  of  transmigration,  how  could  Plutarch  refuse  to 
serve  under  him?  It  was  impossible.  He  adopted  the 
doctrine  of  the  metempsychosis.  He  entered  into  the 
merciful  scheme  of  Pythagoras ;  and  like  him  diverted  the 
cruelty  of  the  human  species,  by  appealing  to  the  selfish 
qualities  of  their  nature,  by  subduing  their  pride,  and 
exciting  their  sympathy,  while  he  showed  them  that  their 
future  existence  might  be  the  condition  of  a  reptile. 

This  spirit  and  disposition  break  strongly  from  him, 
in  his  observations  on  the  elder  Cato.  And  as  nothing 
can  exhibit  a  more  lively  picture  of  him  than  these  paint- 
ings of  his  own,  we  shall  not  scruple  to  introduce  them 
here:  "  For  my  part,  I  can  not  but  charge  his  using  his 
servants  like  so  many  beasts  of  burthen,  and  turning 
them  off  or  selling  them  when  grown  old,  to  the  account 
of  a  mean  and  ungenerous  spirit,  which  thinks  that  the 
sole  tie  between  man  and  man  is  interest  or  necessity. 
But  goodness  moves  in  a  larger  sphere  than  justice;  the 
obligations  of  law  and  equity  reach  only  to  mankind,  but 
mercy  and  beneficence  should  be  extended  to  creatures  of 
every  species ;  and  these  still  flow  from  the  breast  of  a 
well-natured  man,  as  streams  that  issue  from  a  copious 
fountain.  A  good  man  will  take  care  of  his  horses  and 
dogs,  not  only  while  they  are  young,  but  when  old  and 
past  service.  Thus  the  people  of  Athens,  when  they  had 
finished  the  temple  called  Hacatompedon,  set  at  liberty 


PYTFI AGORA S  AND  PLUTARCH. 


5 


the  beasts  of  burthen  that  had  been  chiefly  employed  in 
the  work,  suffering  them  to  pasture  at  large,  free  from 
any  farther  serviee.  It  is  said  that  one  of  these  subse- 
quently came  to  its  own  accord  to  work,  and  placing 
itself  at  the  head  of  the  laboring  cattle,  marched  before 
them  to  the  citadel.  This  pleased  the  people;  and  they 
made  a  decree,  that  it  should  be  kept  at  the  public  charge 
so  long  as  it  lived.  The  graves  of  Cimon's  mares,  with 
which  he  thrice  conquered  at  the  Olympic  games,  are  still 
to  be  seen  near  his  own  tomb.  Many  have  shown  par- 
ticular marks  of  regard  in  burying  the  dogs  which  they 
have  brought  up  and  cherished;  and  among  the  rest  Xan- 
tippus  of  old,  whose  dog  swam  by  the  side  of  his  galley 
to  Salamis,  when  the  Athenians  were  forced  to  abandon 
their  city,  and  was  afterwards  buried  by  his  master  upon 
a  promontory,  to  this  day  called  the  Dog's  Grave.  We 
certainly  ought  not  to  treat  living  creatures  like  shoes  of 
household  goods,  which,  when  worn  out  with  use,  we 
throw  away;  and,  were  it  only  to  teach  benevolence  to 
human  kind,  we  should  be  tender  and  merciful  to  other 
creatures.  For  my  own  part,  I  would  not  sell  even  an 
old  ox  that  had  labored  for  me;  much  less  would  I  ban- 
ish, as  it  were,  for  the  sake  of  a  little  money,  a  man 
grown  old  in  my  service,  from  his  usual  place  and  acccus- 
tomed  diet;  since  he  could  be  of  no  more  use  to  the  buyer 
than  he  was  to  the  seller.  But  Cato,  as  if  he  took  a 
pride  in  these  things,  informs  us  that  when  consul  he  left 
his  war-horse  in  Spain,  to  save  the  public  the  charge  of 
his  freight.  Whether  such  things  as  these  are  instances 
of  greatness  or  littleness  of  soul,  let  the  reader  judge  for 
himself  !" 

What  an  amiable  idea  of  our  benevolent  philosopher! 
How  worthy  the  instruction  of  the  sage  of  Samos! 
How  honorable  to  Pythagoras,  that  master  of  truth  and 
universal  science,  whose  sentiments  were  decisive  in 
every  doubtful  matter,  and  whose  maxims  were  received 
with  silent  conviction! 

Wherefore  should  we  wonder  to  find  Plutarch  more 
particularly  attached  to  the  opinions  of  this  illustrious 
man?  Whether  we  consider  the  immensity  of  his  erudi- 
tion, or  the  benevolence  of  his  system,  the  motives  for 


6 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


that  attachment  were  equally  powerful.  Pythagoras  had 
collected  all  the  stores  of  human  learning,  and  had  re- 
duced them  to  one  rational  and  useful  body  of  science. 
Like  our  glorious  Bacon,  he  led  philosophy  forth  from 
the  jargon  of  schools  and  the  fopperies  of  sects.  He 
made  her  what  she  was  originally  designed  to  be,  the 
handmaid  of  nature;  friendly  to  her  creatures,  and  faith- 
ful to  her  laws.  Whatever  knowledge  could  be  gained 
by  human  industry,  by  the  most  extensive  inquiry  and 
observation,  he  had  every  opportunity  to  obtain.  The 
priests  of  Egypt  unfolded  to  him  their  mysteries  and 
their  learning:  they  led  him  through  the  records  of  the 
remotest  antiquity,  and  opened  all  those  stores  of  science 
that  had  been  amassing  through  a  multitude  of  ages. 
The  magi  of  Persia  cooperated  with  the  priests  of  Egypt 
in  his  instruction.  They  tanght  him  those  higher  parts 
of  science  by  which  they  were  themselves  so  much  dis- 
tinguished—astronomy and  the  system  of  the  universe. 
The  laws  of  moral  life,  and  the  institutions  of  civil  so- 
cieties, with  their  several  excellencies  and  defects,  ha 
learned  from  the  various  states  and  establishments  of 
Greece.  Thus  accomplished,  when  he  came  to  dispute 
in  the  Olympic  contests,  he  was  considered  as  a  prodigy 
of  wisdom  and  learning;  but  when  the  choice  of  his  title 
was  left  to  him,  he  modestly  declined  the  appellation  of 
a  "  wise  man,"  and  was  contented  to  be  called  a  "  lover 
of  wisdom  "  or  "  philosopher."— Langhorne* 

TO  PLUTARCH. 

FROM  THE  GREEK  OF  AG  A.THIAS 

Wise,  honest  Plutarch!  to  thy  deathless  praise, 

The  sons  of  Rome  this  grateful  statue  raise; 

Because  both  Greece  and  Rome  thy  fame  have  shared, 

Their  heroes  written,  and  their  lives  compared. 

But  thou  thyself  could'st  never  write  thy  own; 

Their  lives  had  parallels — -but  thine  has  none. — Dryden. 


HINDOOS. 


7 


Great  Plutarch  shines,  by  moral  beauty  known, 
First  of  thy  votaries,  peerless  and  alone, 
Oh  blest  biography !  whose  charms  of  yore, 
Historic  truth  to  strong  affection  bore. 
And  fostering  virtue  gave  thee  as  thy  dower, 
Of  both  thy  parents  the  attractive  power; 
To  win  the  heart,  the  wavering  thought  to  fix 
And  fond  delight  with  wise  instruction  mix. 
Enchanting  sage!  whose  living  lessons  teach 
What  heights  of  virtue,  human  efforts  reach. 
Though  oft  thy  pen,  eccentrically  wild, 
ftamble  in  learning's  various  maze  beguiled, 
Thy  every  page  is  uniformly  bright 
With  mild  philanthropy's  diviner  light. 
Of  gentlest  manners,  as  of  mind  elate, 
Thy  happy  genius  had  the  glorious  fate 
To  regulate,  with  wisdom's  just  control, 
The  strong  ambition  of  a  Trajan's  soul. 
But  oh!  how  rare  benignant  virtue  springs 
In  the  blank  bosom  of  despotic  kings.— Hayhy. 


THE  HINDOOS, 

[Hindoostan  contains,  at  least,  sixty  millions  of  in- 
habitants; the  language  of  its  philosophers,  the  Sanscrit, 
is  systematic  and  inferior  only  to  the  Greek.  The  fol- 
lowing extracts  afford  some  account  of  this  ancient  and 
immense  people,  who,  despite  their  absurd  customs  and 
degrading  superstitions,  have  by  an  enlightened  policy 
and  practice,  like  the  Pythagoreans,  interwoven  with 
their  religion,  laws  and  manners,  the  duty  of  justice  and 
kindness  to  all  sentient  beings,] 

The  Hindoos  are  all  very  scrupulous  with  regard  to 
their  diet,  but  the  Bramins  much  more  so  than  any  of 
the  rest— which  we  are  told  by  Porphyry  and  Clemens 
Alexandrinus,  was  the  case  in  their  time.  Their  ordi- 
nary food  is  rice  and  other  vegetables,  seasoned  with 
ginger  and  other  spices.    The  food  which  they  most  es- 


8 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


teem  is  milk,  as  coming  from  the  cow;  and  it  is  enacted 
in  the  Gentoo  laws,  that  any  one  who  exacts  labor 
from  a  bullock  that  is  hungry  or  thirsty,  or  shall  oblige 
him  to  labor  when  fatigued,  or  out  of  season,  is  liable  to 
be  fined  by  the  magistrates.  The  other  castes,  though 
less  rigid,  abstain  very  religiously  from  what  is  forbidden 
them;  though  they  may  eat  some  kinds  of  fish  and  flesh, 
yet  it  is  accounted  a  virtue  to  abstain  from  them  all.  . 
None  of  them  are  allowed  to  taste  intoxicating  liquor  of 
any  kind. 

All  the  Hindoo  sects  believe  in  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  a  state  of  future  rewards  and  punishments,  and 
transmigration.  According  to  Bishop  Wilkins,  many  of 
them  believe  that  this  world  is  a  state  of  rewards  and* 
punishments,  as  well  as  of  probation,  and  that  the  fate 
of  man,  his  good  and  bad  fortune,  is  the  necessary  effect 
of  good  and  evil  actions  committed  in  former  states  of 
existence.  They  all  seem  to  worship  fire,  or  at  least 
pay  a  great  veneration  to  it.  Charity  and  hospitality 
are  inculcated  in  the  strongest  manner,  and  exist  among 
them,  not  only  in  theory,  but  in  practice.   They  say  that, 

"  Hospitality  is  commanded  to  be  exercised  even  to- 
wards an  enemy,  when  he  cometh  into  thine  house;  the 
tree  doth  not  withdraw  its  shade  even  from  the  wood 
cutter.  Good  men  extend  their  charity  even  to  the  vilest 
animals.  The  moon  doth  not  withhold  her  light  even 
from  the  Chandala  or  vilest  people.  Truth,  content- 
ment, patience,  and  mercy,  belong  to  great  minds.  The 
good  exercise  compassion  by  making  the  case  of  others 
their  own.  Good  derived  from  evil  (i.  c,  obtained  by 
evil  means)  is  not  good.  The  vision  of  the  eyes  is  not 
sight  ;  but  he  is  blest  with  sight  who  possesses  know- 
ledge; the  ignorant  are  the  blind.  The  contented  are 
always  happy;  the  discontented  never." 

According  to  the  Hindoo  doctrine  of  future  punish- 
ment, the  unmerciful  are  to  be  tormented  by  snakes, 
wasps,  &c. ;  he  who  kills  a  man,  and  offers  him  to  the 
gods,  and  he  who  devours  any  animal,  unless  he  has 
slain  it  in  sacrifice,  are  to  be  fed  on  flesh  and  blood. 
The  glutton  who  has  been  guilty  of  wantonly  torturing 
and  destroying  animals,  is  to  be  thrown  into  a  hell  of 


HINDOOS. 


9 


boiling  oil;  the  covetous  are  to  be  fed  with  impure  sub- 
stanees. 

Their  pure  doctrines  are  mixed  however  with  many 
vague  superstitions.  A  singularity  in  their  religion  is, 
that  so  far  from  persecuting  those  of  a  contrary  persua- 
sion, which  is  too  often  the  case  with  other  professions, 
they  even  refuse  to  admit  a  proselyte.  In  ordinary  life 
they  are  cheerful  and  lively,  fond  of  conversation  and 
amusements.  When  they  write  upon  paper  they  use  a 
small  reed.  Though  naturally  mild  and  timid,  they  often 
meet  death  with  the  most  heroic  intrepidity.  The  Hin- 
doo, at  the  point  of  death,  talks  of  his  decease  with  the 
utmost  composure,  and,  if  near  the  Ganges,  will  be  car? 
ricd  out  that  he  may  expire  on  its  banks.  In  many  in- 
stances, both  in  ancient  and  modern  times,  these  people 
have  been  known,  when  closely  besieged  by  an  over- 
powering enemy,  to  kill  their  wives  and  children  in  order 
to  save  them  from  the  foe.  set  lire  to  their  houses,  and 
then  rush  violently  upon  their  adversaries  until  every 
one  perished. 

In  the  late  war,  some  seapoys  in  the  British  service, 
having  been  concerned  in  a  mutiny,  were  condemned  to 
be  blown  away  from  the  mouth  of  a  cannon.  Their 
grenadiers  cried  out  that  they  had  all  along  had  the  post 
of  honor,  and  they  did  not  see  why  they  should  be  denied 
it  now,  and  therefore  desired  that  they  might  be  blown 
away  first.  This  being  granted,  they  walked  forward  to 
the  gun  with  composure,  begged  that  they  might  be 
spared  the  indignity  of  being  tied,  and,  placing  their 
breasts  close  to  the  muzzle,  were  shot  away.  The  com- 
manding officer  was  so  much  affected  with  this  degree  of 
heroism,  that  he  pardoned  all  the  rest. 

Their  custom  of  burning  or  burying  alive  the  widows 
with  the  body  of  their  deceased  husbands,  is  not  enjoined 
by  law.  It  is,  however,  considered  proper  and  praise- 
worthy, and  practiced  mostly  by  ladies  of  the  higher 
rank,  and  probably  caused  by  an  overwrought  but  per- 
verted enthusiasm  of  love  and  fortitude.  The  faithful 
enthusiasts,  who  choose  to  devote  themselves  to  this 
dreadful  death,  suffer  with  the  greatest  constancy. — En- 
cyclopedia. 


(10) 


THE  BRA M IN. 

Through  the  wide  universe's  boundless  range, 

All  that  exist,  decay,  revive  and  change; 

No  atom  torpid  or  inactive  lies; 

A  being,  once  created,  never  dies. 

The  waning  moon,  when  quench 'd  in  shades  of  night, 

Renews  her  youth  with  all  the  charms  of  light; 

The  flowery  beauties  of  the  blooming  year 

Shrink  from  the  shivering  blast,  and  disappear; 

Yet  warmed  with  quickening  showers  of  genial  rain, 

Spring  from  their  graves,  and  purple  ail  the  plain. 

As  day  the  night,  and  night  succeeds  the  day, 

So  death  reanimates,  so  lives  decay: 

Like  billows  on  the  undulating  main, 

The  swelling  fall,  the  falling  swell  again; 

Thus  on  the  tide  of  time,  inconstant,  roll 

The  dying  body  and  the  living  soul. 

In  every  animal,  inspired  with  breath, 

The  flowers  of  life  produce  the  seeds  of  death; 

The  seeds  of  death,  though  scatter'd  in  the  tomb, 

Spring  with  new  vigor,  vegetate  and  bloom. 

All  that  inhabit  ocean,  air,  or  earth, 
From  one  eternal  sire  derive  their  birth. 
The  hand  that  built  the  palace  of  the  sky, 
Formed  the  light  wings  that  decorate  a  fly: 
The  power  that  wheels  the  circling  planets  round 
Rears  every  infant  floweret  on  the  ground; 
That  bounty,  which  the  mightiest  beings  share, 
Feeds  the  least  gnat  that  gilds  the  evening  air. 
Thus  all  the  wild  inhabitants  of  woods, 
Children  of  air  and  tenants  of  the  floods; 
All,  all  are  equal,  independent,  free, 
And  all  are  heirs  of  immortality! 

Ah!  then  refrain  your  brethren's  blood  to  spill, 
And,  till  you  can  create,  forbear  to  kill! 
Oft  as  a  guiltless  fellow-creature  dies, 
The  blood  of  innocence  for  vengeance  cries' 
Even  grim,  rapacious  savages  of  prey, 


THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION. 


11 


Presume  not,  save  in  self  defence,  to  slay; 

What  though  to  heaven  their  forfeit  lives  they  owe, 

Hath  heaven  commissioned  thee  to  deal  the  blow? 

Montgomery. 


THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION. 

If  the  happiness  of  all  mankind,  as  much  as  in  each 
lies,  were  every  one's  persuasion,  as  indeed  it  is  every 
one's  duty,  and  the  true  principle  to  regulate  our  religion, 
politics  and  morality  by,  the  world  would  be  much  qui- 
eter and  better  natured  than  it  is. 

Some  children,  when  they  have  possession  of  any  poor 
creature,  are  apt  to  use  it  ill;  they  often  torment  and 
treat  very  roughly,  young  birds,  butterflies,  and  such 
other  poor  animals  as  fall  into  their  hands,  and  that  with 
a  seeming  kind  of  pleasure.  This  should  be  watched  in 
them,  and  if  they  incline  to  any  such  cruelty,  they  should 
be  taught  the  contrary  usage,  for  the  custom  of  tormenting 
and  killing  of  beasts  will  by  degrees  harden  their  minds 
even  towards  men,  and  they  who  delight  in  the  suffering 
and  destruction  of  inferior  creatures,  will  not  be  apt  to  be 
very  complacent  or  benign  to  those  of  their  own  kind. 
Our  [English  law]  practice  takes  notice  of  this,  in  the 
exclusion  of  butchers  from  juries  of  life  and  death. 
Children  should  from  the  beginning  be  bred  up  in  an  ab- 
horrence of  killing  [needlessly]  and  of  tormenting  any 
living  creature,  and  be  taught  not  to  spoil  or  destroy  any 
thing,  unless  it  be  for  the  preservation  or  advantage  of 
some  other  that  is  nobler.  I  can  not  but  commend  both 
the  kindness  and  the  prudence  of  a  mother  I  knew,  who 
was  wont  always  to  indulge  her  children,  when  any  of 
them  desired  dogs,  squirrels,  birds,  or  any  such  things 
young  children  use  to  be  delighted  with;  but  then,  when 
they  had  them,  they  must  be  sure  to  keep  them  well,  and 
look  diligently  after  them,  that  they  wanted  nothing,  or 
were  not  ill  used;  for  if  they  were  negligent  in  their  care 
of  the  animals,  it  was  accounted  a  great  fault,  which 
often  forfeited  their  possession,  or  at  least  they  failed  not 
to  be  rebuked  for  it,  whereby  they  were  really  taught  dili- 
gence and  good  nature.    Indeed,  people  should  be  accus- 


12 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


tomed  from  their  cradles,  to  be  tender  to  all  sensible 
creatures,  and  to  spoil  or  "waste  nothing.  Mischief  means 
the  spoiling  of  any  thing  to  no  purpose,  but  more  especi- 
ally the  pleasure  of  putting  any  thing  to  pain  that  is 
capable  of  it;  the  delight  they  take  in  doing  this,  I  can- 
not persuade  myself  to  be  any  other  than  a  foreign  and 
acquired  disposition;  a  habit  bred  from  custom  and  con- 
versation. People  teach  children  to  strike  and  laugh 
when  they  are  hurt,  or  see  harm  come  to  others;  and 
they  have  the  examples  of  most  about  them  to  confirm 
them  in  it.  The  entertainment  of  talk  and  history,  con- 
sists principally  of  fighting  aud  killing,  and  the  honor 
and  renown  that  is  bestowed  on  conquerors  (who  for  the 
most  part  are  the  great  butchers  of  mankind),  further 
mislead  growing  youths,  who  by  this  means  come  to  think 
slaughter  the  laudable  business  of  mankind,  and  the  most 
heroic  of  virtues.  By  these  steps,  unnatural  cruelty  is 
planted  in  us,  and  what  humanity  abhors,  custom  recon- 
ciles and  recommends  to  us  hy  laying  it  in  the  way  to 
honor.  Thus,  by  fashion  and  opinion,  that  comes  to  be  a 
pleasure  which,  in  itself,  neither  is  nor  can  beany.  This 
ought  carefully  to  be  watched  and  early  to  be  remedied, 
so  as  to  instill  and  cherish  the  contrary  and  more  natural 
temper  of  benignity  and  compassion  in  the  room  of  it, 
but  still  by  the  same  gentle  method. 

The  mischief  or  harms  that  comes  by  play,  inadver- 
tency or  ignorance,  and  wrere  not  known  to  be  harms  or 
designed  for  mischief's  sake,  though  they  may  perhaps  be 
sometimes  of  considerable  damage,  yet  are  not  at  all,  or 
but  very  gently  to  be  noticed.  For  it  can  not  be  too  often 
inculcated,  that  whatever  misconduct  a  child  is  guilty  of, 
and  whatever  may  be  its  consequence,  the  thing  to  be  re- 
garded in  taking  notice  of  it,  is,  only  what  root  it  sprung 
from  and  what  habit  it  is  likely  to  establish;  and  to  that 
the  correction  ought  to  be  directed,  and  the  child  not  to 
suffer  any  punishment  for  any  harm  which  may  have 
come  by  his  play  or  inadvertency;  the  faults  to  be  amended 
lie  in  the  mind,  and  if  they  are  such  as  either  age  will 
cure,  or  no  ill  habit  will  follow,  the  present  action,  what- 
ever displeasing  circumstance  it  may  have,  is  to  be  passed 
by  without  any  animadversion. 


MERCY. 


13 


Another  way  to  instill  sentiments  of  humanity  and  keep 
them  lively,  will  be  to  accustom  them  to  civility  in  their 
language  and  deportment  to  all,  particularly  towards  in- 
feriors, servants,  &c.  If  they  are  suffered  from  their 
cradle  to  treat  men  ill  and  rudely,  because  by  their  father's 
wealth  they  think  they  have  a  little  power  over  them,  at 
best  it  is  ill  bred,  and,  if  care  be  not  taken,  will  by  degrees 
nurse  up  their  natural  pride  into  an  habitual  contempt 
of  those  beneath  them,  and  where  will  that  probably  end 
but  in  oppression  and  cruelty  ? 

We  ought  not  to  encroach  upon  truth  in  any  conversa- 
tion, but  least  of  all  with  children,  since,  if  we  play  false 
with  them,  we  not  only  deceive  their  expectations  and 
hinder  their  knowledge,  but  corrupt  their  innocence,  and 
by  example  teach  them  the  worst  of  vices.  They  easily 
perceive  when  they  are  slighted  or  deceived,  and  quickly 
learn  the  trick  of  neglect,  dissimulation  and  falsehood, 
which  they  observe  made  use  of  by  others.—  John  Locke. 


MERCY. 

The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained; 

It  droppeth  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven, 

Upon  the  place  beneath.    It  is  twice  blessed; 

It  blesseth  him  that  gives  and  him  that  takes: 

'Tis  mightiest  in  the  mighty;  it  becomes 

The  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown. 

His  scepter  shows  the  force  of  temporal  power 

But  mercy  is  above  this  scepterd  sway. 

It  is  an  attribute  of  God  himself; 

And  earthly  power  doth  then  show  likest  God's, 

When  mercy  seasons  justice.  We  do  pray  for  mercy > 

And  that  same  prayer  doth  teach  us  all  to  render 

The  deeds  of  mercy.— Shakspeare. 


3 


(14). 

ISAAC  NEWTON 

Of  persecution  he  always  expressed  the  strongest  ab- 
horrence and  detestation.  He  was  exceedingly  shocked 
at  any  act  of  cruelty  to  man  or  beast;  mercy  to  both  be- 
ing the  topic  on  which  he  delighted  to  dwell. — Thomson's 
History  of  Royal  Society  of  London. 

His  temper  is  said  to  have  been  so  equal  and  mild 
that  no  accident  could  disturb  it.  Of  this  the  following 
remarkable  instance  is  related:  Sir  Isaac  had  a  favorite 
dog  which  he  called  Diamond,  and  being  one  day  called 
out  of  his  study  into  the  next  room,  Diamond  was  left 
behind;  when  Sir  Isaac  returned,  having  been  absent  but 
a  few  minutes,  he  had  the  mortification  to  find,  that, 
Diamond  having  thrown  down  a  lighted  candle  among 
some  papers,  the  nearly  finished  labor  of  many  years  was 
in  flames,  and  almost  consumed  to  ashes.  This  loss,  as 
Sir  Isaac  was  then  very  far  advanced  in  years,  was  irre- 
trievable; yet  without  once  striking  the  dog,  he  only 
rebuked  him  with  this  exclamation:  <s  Oh!  Diamond! 
Diamond!  thou  little  knowest  the  mischief  thou  hast 
done ! ' '—Ency  elope d ia  Brita  n nica . 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 

u  The  essay  of  bloody  feasts  on  brutes  began, 
And,  after,  forged  the  sword  to  murder  man.1' 

I  can  not  think  it  extravagant  to  imagine,  that  mankind 
are  no  less,  in  proportion,  accountable  for  the  ill  use  of 
their  dominion  over  creatures  of  the  lower  rank  of  beings, 
than  for  the  exercise  of  tyranny  over  their  own  species. 
The  more  entirely  the  inferior  creation  is  submitted  to 
our  power,  the  more  answerable  we  should  seem  for  our 
mismanagement  of  it;  and  the  rather,  as  the  very  condi- 
tion of  nature  renders  these  creatures  incapable  of  receiv- 
ing any  recompense  in  another  life  for  their  ill  treatment 
in  this. 

It  is  observable,  of  those  noxious  animals  which  have 
qualities  most  powerful  to  injure  us,  that  they  naturally 
avoid  mankind,  and  never  hurt  us  unless  provoked,  or 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS, 


15 


necessitated  by  hunger.  Man,  on  the  other  hand,  seeks 
out  and  pursues  even  the  most  inoffensive  animals,  on 
purpose  to  persecute  and  destroy  them. 

Montaigne  thinks  it  some  reflection  upon  human  nature 
itself,  that  few  people  take  delight  in  seeing  beasts  caress 
or  play  together,  but  almost  every  one  is  pleased  to  see 
them  lacerate  and  worry  one  another.  I  am  sorry  this 
temper  is  become  almost  a  distinguishing  character  of 
our  nation,  from  the  observation  which  is  made  by  foreign- 
ers of  our  beloved  pastimes,  bear-beating,  cock-fighting, 
and  the  like.  We  should  find  it  hard  to  vindicate  the 
destroying  of  any  thing  that  has  life,  merely  out  of  wan- 
tonness; yet  in  this  principle  our  children  are  bred  up, 
and  one  of  the  first  pleasures  we  allow  them,  is  the  licence 
of  inflicting  pain  upon  poor  animals.  Almost  as  soon  as 
we  are  sensible  what  life  is,  ourselves,  we  make  it  our 
sport  to  take  it  from  other  creatures.  I  can  not  but 
believe  a  very  good  use  might  be  made  of  the  fancy  which 
children  have  for  birds  and  insects.  Mr.  Locke  takes 
notice  of  a  mother  who  permitted  them  to  her  children, 
but  rewarded  or  punished  them  as  they  treated  them  well 
or  ill.  This  was  no  other  than  entering  them  betimes 
into  a  dairy  exercise  of  humanity,  and  improving  their 
very  diversion  to  a  virtue. 

I  fancy,  too,  some  advantage  might  be  taken  of  the  com- 
mon notion,  that  it  is  ominous  and  unlucky  to  destroy 
some  sorts  of  birds,  as  swallows  or  martins.  This  opin- 
ion might  possibly  arise  from  the  confidence  these  birds 
seem  to  put  in  us,  by  building  under  our  roofs,  so  that  it 
is  a  kind  of  violation  of  the  laws  of  hospitality  to  murder 
them.  As  for  robin-red-breasts  in  particular,  it  is  not 
improbable  they  owe  their  security  to  the  old  ballad  of 
The  Children  in  the  Wood.  However  it  be,  I  don't  know, 
I  say,  why  this  prejudice,  well  improved  and  carried  as 
far  as  it  would  go,  might  not  be  made  to  conduce  to  the 
preservation  of  many  innocent  creatures,  which  are  now- 
exposed  to  all  the  wantonness  of  an  ignorant  barbarity. 

There  are  other  animals  that  have  the  misfortune,  for 
no  manner  of  reason,  to  be  treated  as  common  enemies, 
wherever  found.  The  conceit  that  a  cat  has  nine  lives, 
has  cost  at  least  nine  liyes  in  ten  of  the  whole  race  of 


16 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


them;  scarce  a  boy  in  the  streets  but  has  in  this  point 
outdone  Hercules  himself,  who  was  famous  for  killing  a 
monster,  that  had  but  three  lives.  Whether  the  unac- 
countable animosity  against  this  useful  domestic,  may  bo 
any  cause  of  the  general  persecution  of  owls  (who  are  a 
sort  of  feathered  cat),  or  whether  it  be  only  an  unreason- 
able pique  the  moderns  have  taken  to  a  serious  counte- 
nance, I  shall  not  determine.  Though  I  am  inclined  to 
believe  the  former,  since  I  observe  the  sole  reason  alleged 
for  the  destruction  of  frogs  is  because  they  are  like  toads. 
Yet,  amidst  all  the  misfortunes  of  these  unfriended  crea- 
tures, it  is  some  happiness  that  we  have  not  yet  taken  a 
fancy  to  eat  them.  For  should  our  countrymen  refino 
upon  the  French  never  so  little,  it  is  not  to  be  conceived 
to  what  unheard-of  torments,  owls,  cats,  and  frogs  may 
be  yet  reserved. 

When  we  grow  up  to  men,  we  have  another  succession 
of  sanguinary  sports;  in  particular,  hunting.  I  dare  not 
attack  a  diversion  which  has  such  authority  and  custom 
to  support  it;  but  must  have  leave  to  be  of  opinion,  that 
the  agitation  of  that  exercise,  with  the  example  and  num- 
ber of  the  chasers,  not  a  little  contributes  to  resist  those 
checks  which  compassion  would  naturally  suggest  in 
behalf  of  the  animal  pursued.  Nor  shall  I  say  with 
Monsieur  Fleury,  that  this  sport  is  a  remain  of  the  Gothic 
barbarity;  but  I  must  animadvert  upon  a  certain  custom 
yet  in  use  with  us,  and  barbarous  enough  to  be  derived 
from  the  Goths,  or  even  the  Scythians,  1  mean  that 
savage  compliment  our  huntsmen  pass  upon  ladies  of 
quality  who  are  present  at  the  death  of  a  stag,  when  they 
put  the  knife  in  their  hands  to  cut  the  throat  of  a  help- 
less, trembling,  and  weeping  creature. 

But  if  our  sports  are  destructive,  our  gluttony  is  more 
so,  and  in  a  more  inhuman  manner.  Lobsters  roasted 
alive,  pigs  whipped  to  death,  fowls  sewed  up,  are  testi- 
monies of  our  outrageous  luxury.  Those  who  (as  Seneca 
expresses  it)  divided  their  lives  betwixt  an  anxious  con- 
science, and  a  nauseated  stomach,  have  a  just  reward  of 
their  gluttony  in  the  diseases  it  brings"  with  it.  For 
human  savages,  like  other  wild  beasts,  find  snares  and 
poison  in  the  provisions  of  life,  and  are  allured  by  their 


CRUELTY   TO  ANIMALS.  17 

appetite  to  their  destruction.  I  know  nothing  more 
shocking,  or  horrid,  than  the  prospect  of  one  of  their 
kitchens  covered  with  blood,  and  filled  with  the  cries  of 
creatures  expiring  in  tortures.  It  gives  one  an  image  of 
a  giant's  den  in  a  romance,  bestrewed  with  the  scattered 
heads  and  mangled  limbs  of  those  who  were  slain  by  his 
cruelty. 

The  excellent  Plutarch  (who  has  more  strokes  of  good- 
nature in  his  writings  than  I  remember  in  any  author) 
cites  a  saying  of  Cato  to  this  effect:  64  That  it  is  no  easy 
task  to  preach  to  the  belly  which  has  no  ears.  Yet  if" 
says  he  "we  are  ashamed  to  be  so  out  of  fashion  as  not 
to  offend,  let  us  at  least  offend  with  some  discretion  and 
measure.  If  we  kill  an  animal  for  our  provision,  let  us 
do  it  with  the  meltings  of  compassion,  and  without  tor- 
menting it.  Let  us  consider,  that  it  is  in  its  own  nature 
cruelty  to  put  a  living  creature  to  death;  we  at  least 
destroy  a  soul  that  has  sense  and  perception."  In  the 
life  of  Cato  the  Censor,  he  takes  occasion,  from  the  severe 
disposition  of  that  man,  to  discourse  in  this  manner.  "  It 
ought  to  be  esteemed  a  happiness  to  mankind,  that  our 
humanity  has  a  wider  sphere  to  exert  itself  in  than  bare 
justice.  It  is  no  more  than  the  obligation  of  our  very 
birth  to  practice  equity  to  our  own  kind;  but  humanity 
may  be  extended  through  the  whole  order  of  creatures, 
even  to  the  meanest;  such  actions  of  charity  are  the  over- 
flowings of  a  mild  good  nature  on  all  below  us.  It  is 
certainly  the  part  of  a  well-natured  man  to  take  care  of 
his  horses  and  dogs,  not  only  in  expectation  of  their  labor 
while  they  are  foals  and  whelps,  but  even  when  their  old 
age  has  made  them  incapable  of  service." 

History  tells  us  of  a  wise  and  polite  nation,  that  rejected 
a  person  of  the  first  quality,  who  stood  for  a  judiciary 
office,  only  because  he  had  been  observed  in  his  youth  to 
take  pleasure  in  tearing  and  murdering  of  birds.  And 
of  another,  that  expelled  a  man  out  of  the  senate  for  dash- 
ing a  bird  against  the  ground  which  had  taken  shelter  in 
his  bosom.  Every  one  knows  how  remarkable  the  Turks 
are  for  their  humanity  in  this  kind.  I  remember  an 
Arabian  author,  who  has  written  a  treatise  to  show  how 
far  a  man,  supposed  to  have  subsisted  in  a  desert  island, 


18 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


without  any  instruction,  or  so  much  as  the  sight  of  any 
other  man,  may,  by  the  pure  light  of  nature,  attain  the 
knowledge  of  philosophy  and  virtue.  One  of  the  first 
things  he  makes  him  observe,  is,  that  universal  benevo- 
lence of  nature  in  the  protection  and  preservation  of  its 
creatures.  In  imitation  of  which,  the  first  act  of  virtue 
his  self-taught  philosopher  would  of  course  fall  into,  is, 
to  relieve  and  assist  all  the  animals  about  him  in  their 
wants  and  distresses. 

Ovid  has  some  very  tender  and  pathetic  lines  applicable 
to  this  occasion,  [lie  represents  Pythagoras  as  thus  speak- 
ing-] 

The  sheep  was  sacrificed  on  no  pretence 

But  meek  and  unresisting  innocence. 

A  patient,  useful  creature,  born  to  bear 

The  warming  fleece,  that  clothed  her  murderer; 

The  cow  that  daily  gave  the  milk  she  bred, 

A  tribute  for  the  grass  on  which  she  fed; 

Living,  our  food  or  raiment,  they  supply, 

Are  they  of  more  advantage  when  they  die  ?  1 

How  did  the  toiling  ox  his  death  deserve? 

A  downright  honest  drudge,  and  born  to  serve. 

Oh  tyrant !  with  what  justice  can'st  thou  hope 

The  promise  of  the  year,  a  plenteous  crop, 

When  thou  destroy'st  thy  laboring  steer  who  tilled 

And  plouglrd  with  pains  thy  else  unyielding  field ! 

From  his  yet  reeking  neck  to  draw  the  yoke, 

That  neck,  with  which  the  surly  clods  he  broke; 

And  to  the  hatchet  yield  thy  husbandman, 

Who  finished  autumn,  and  the  spring  began  ! 

What  more  advance  can  mortals  make  in  sin, 
So  near  perfection,  who  with  blood  begin  ' 
Deaf  to  the  calf  that  lies  beneath  the  knife, 
Looks  up,  and  from  her  butcher  begs  her  life. 
Deaf  to  the  harmless  kid,  that,  ere  he  dies, 
All  methods  to  secure  thy  mercy  tries ; 
And  imitates  in  vain  the  children's  cries. 

Dryden's  Ovid. 


CRUELTY   TO  ANIMALS 


ID 


Perhaps  that  voice  or  cry  so  nearly  resembling  the 
human,  with  which  Providence  has  endowed  so  many 
different  animals,  might  purposely  be  given  them  to  move 
our  pity,  and  prevent  those  cruelties  we  are  too  apt  to 
inflict  on  our  fellow  creatures. 

There  is  a  passage  in  the  book  of  Jonah,  where  God 
declares  his  unwillingness  to  destroy  Nineveh,  where, 
methinks,  that  compassion  of  the  Creator,  which  extends 
to  the  meanest  rank  of  his  creatures,  is  expressed  with 
wonderful  tenderness:  Should  I  not  spare  Nineveh  the 
great  city,  wherein  are  more  than  six  score  thousand 
persons — and  also  much  cattle  ?  And  we  have  in  Deu- 
teronomy a  precept  of  great  good  nature  of  this  sort,  with 
a  blessing  in  form  anexed  to  it,  in  these  words:  If  thou 
shalt  find  a  bird's  nest  in  the  way,  thou  shalt  not  take 
the  dam  with  the  young:  but  thou  shalt  in  any  wise  let 
the  dam  go,  that  it  may  be  well  with  thee,  and  that  thou 
mayst  prolong  thy  days. 

To  conclude,  there  is  certainly  a  degree  of  gratitude 
owing  to  those  animals  that  serve  us;  as  for  such  as  are 
mortal  or  noxious,  we  have  a  right  to  destroy  them;  and 
of  those  that  are  neither  of  advantage  or  prejudice  to  us, 
the  common  enjoyment  of  life  is  what  I  can  not  think  we 
ought  to  deprive  them  of. 

The  whole  matter  with  regard  to  each  of  these  consid- 
erations, is  set  in  a  very  agreeable  light  in  one  of  the 
Persian  fables  of  Pilpay,  with  which  I  shall  end  this 
paper. 

A  traveler  passing  through  a  thicket,  and  seeing  a  few 
sparks  of  a  fire  which  some  passengers  had  kindled  as 
they  went  that  way  before,  made  up  to  it.  On  a  sudden 
the  sparks  caught  hold  of  a  bush,  in  the  midst  of  which 
lay  an  adder,  and  set  itin  flames.  The  adder  entreated 
the  traveler's  assistance,  who  tying  a  bag  to  the  end  of 
his  staff,  reached  it,  and  drew  him  out.  He  then  bid  him 
go  where  he  pleased,  but  never  more  be  hurtful  to  men, 
since  he  owed  his  life  to  a  man's  compassion.  The  adder, 
however,  prepared  to  sting  him,  and  when  he  expostulated 
how  unjust  it  was  to  retaliate  good  with  evil,  "  I  shall 
do  no  more,"  said  the  adder,  4 'than  what  you  men  practice 
every  day,  whose  custom  it  is  to  requite  benefits  with 


20 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


ingratitude.  If  you  can  deny  this  truth,  let  us  refer  it  to 
the  first  we  meet."  The  man  consented,  and  seeing  a 
tree,  put  the  question  to  it,  in  what  mariner  a  good  turn 
was  to  be  recompensed  ?  "If  you  mean  according  to  the 
usage  of  men,"  replied  the  tree,  "by  its  contrary.  I  have 
been  standing  here  these  hundred  years  to  protect  them 
from  the  scorching  sun,  and  in  requital  they  have  cut 
down  my  branches,  and  are  going  to  saw  my  body  into 
planks."  Upon  this  the  adder  insulting  the  man,  he 
appealed  to  a  second  evidence,  which  was  granted,  and 
immediately  they  met  a  cow.  The  same  demand  was 
made,  and  much  the  same*  answer  given,  that  among  men 
it  was  certainly  so:  "I  know  it,"  said  the  cow,  "by  woeful 
experience;  for  I  have  served  a  man  this  long  time  with 
milk,  butter  and  cheese,  and  brought  him  besides  a  calf 
every  year,  but  now  I  am  old,  he  turns  me  into  the  pas- 
ture, with  design  to  sell  me  to  a  butcher,  who  will  shortly 
make  an  end  of  me."  The  traveler  upon  this  stood  con- 
founded, but  desired  of  courtesy  one  trial  more,  to  be 
finally  judged  by  the  next  beast  they  should  meet.  This, 
happened  to  be  the  fox,  who,  upon  hearing  the  story  in 
all  its  circumstances,  could  not  be  persuaded  it  was  pos- 
sible for  the  adder  to  get  into"  so  narrow  a  bag.  The 
adder  to  convince  him,  went  in  again;  the  fox  told  the 
man  he  had  now  his  enemy  in  his  power;  and  with  that 
he  fastened  the  bag,  and  crushed  him  to  pieces. — Pope, 

[This  fable  is  a  severe  but  true  satire  on  man.  A 
venomous  animal,  about  to  sting  him  with  ingratitude, 
pleads  in  excuse  man's  own  example.  While  in  its  power 
he  consents  to  refer  the  case  to  others.  The  first  evidence 
is  decidedly  against  the  man,  the  next  also,  is  equally 
strong,  and  at  last  he,  aided  by  the  fraud  of  a  beast  of 
proverbial,  or  rather  fabled  duplicity,  entraps  and  destroys 
his  imitator.] 


(21) 


ESSAY  ON  MAN. 

'Think  not,  in  nature's  state,  man  blindly  trod, 
The  state  of  nature  was  the  reign  of  God: 
Self  love  and  social  at  her  birth  began, 
Union  the  bond  of  all  things,  and  of  man. 
Pride  then  was  not  ;  nor  arts  that  pride  to  aid; 
Man  walked  with  beast,  joint  tenant  of  the  shade; 
The  same  his  table,  and  the  same  his  bed; 
No  murder  clothed  him,  and  no  murder  fed, 
In  the  same  temple,  the  resounding  wood, 
All  vocal  beings  hymned  their  equal  God: 
The  shrine  with  gore  unstained,  with  gold  undressed, 
Unbribed,  unbloody,  stood  the  blameless  priest: 
Heaven's  attribute  was  universal  care, 
And  man's  prerogative,  to  rule,  but  spare. 
Ah  !  how  unlike  the  man  of  times  to  come  ! 
Of  half  that  live,  the  butcher,  and  the  tomb; 
Who.  foe  to  nature,  hears  the  general  groan, 
Murders  their  species,  and  betrays  his  own.  ♦ 
But  just  disease  to  luxury  succeeds, 
And  every  death  its  own  avenger  breeds; 
The  fury  passions  from  that  blood  began, 
And  turned  on  man  a  fiercer  savage,  man. 

Remember,  man,  4 4 the  Universal  Cause 
Acts  not  by  partial  but  by  general  laws;" 
And  makes  what  happiness  we  justly  call, 
Subsist  not  in  the  good  of  one,  but  all. 
Thus  reason,  passion,  answer  one  great  aim, 
And  true  self  love  and  social  are,  the  same. 
Reason's  whole  pleasure,  all  the  joys  of  sense, 
Lie  in  three  words,  health,  peace  and  compentence. 
But  health  consists  in  temperance  alone; 
And  peace,  oh  virtue  !  peace  is  all  thy  own. 
What's  the  advantage  prosperous  vice  attains? 
'Tis  but  wiiat  virtue  flies  from,  or  disdains. 
Virtue's  the  point  where  human  bliss  does  still 
Enjoy  the  good  without  the  fall  to  ill; 
Where  only  merit  constant  pay  receives, 


22 


ESSAY  ON  MAN. 


Is  blest  in  what  it  takes,  and  what  it  gives; 

The  joy  unequalled,  if  its  end  it  gain, 

And  if  it  lose,  attended  with  no  pain: 

Without  satiety,  though  e'er  so  blessed, 

And  but  more  relished  as  the  more  distressed, 

The  broadest  mirth  unfeeling  folly  wears, 

Less  pleasing  far  than  virtue's  very  tears: 

Good,  from  each  object,  from  each  place  acquired, 

For  ever  exercised,  yet  never  tired; 

Never  elated,  while  one  man's  oppressed; 

Never  dejected,  while  another's  blessed; 

And  where  no  wants,  no  wishes  can  remain, 

Since  but  to  wish  more  virtue  is  to  gain. 

Self  love  thus  pushed  to  social,  to  divine, 

Gives  thee  to  make  thy  neighbor's  blessing  thine. 

Is  this  too  little  for  thy  boundless  heart  ? 

Extend  it,  let  thy  enemies  have  part; 

Grasp  the  whole  worlds  of  reason,  life,  and  sense, 

In  one  close  system  of  benevolence : 

Happier  as  kinder  in  whate'er  degree, 

And  height  of  bliss  but  height  of  charity. 

God  loves  from  whole  to  parts ;  but  human  soul 
Must  rise  from  individual  to  the  whole. 
Self-love  but  serves  the  virtuous  mind  to  wake. 
As  the  small  pebble  stirs  the  peaceful  lake;' 
The  centre  moved,  a  circle  straight  succeeds, 
Another  still,  and  still  another  spreads; 
Child,  partner,  parent,  first  it  will  embrace, 
Friend,  kinsman,  neighbor,  in  their  turn  take  place, 
Our  country  next,  and  next  all  human  race; 
Wide  and  more  wide,  the  o'erflowings  of  the  mind, 
Take  every  creature  in  of  every  kind ; 
Earth  smiles  around,  with  boundless  bounty  blest, 
And  heaven  beholds  its  image  in  man's  breast. — Pope. 


(23) 


UNCLE  TOBY. 

My  uncle  Toby  was  a  man  patient  of  injuries;  not 
from  want  of  courage,  where  just  occasions  presented, 
or  called  it  forth.  I  know  no  man  under  whose  arm  I 
would  sooner  have  taken  shelter;  nor  did  this  arise  from 
any  insensibility  or  obtuseness  of  his  intellectual  parts. 
He  was  of  a  peaceful,  placid  nature,  no  jarring  element 
in  it;  all  was  mixed  up  so  kindly  within  him;  my  uncle 
Toby  had  scarce  a  heart  to  retaliate  on  a  fly.  44  Go," 
says  he  one  day  at  dinner  to  an  overgrown  one  which 
had  buzzed  about  his  nose,  and  tormented  him  most 
cruelly  all  dinner  time,  and  which  after  infinite  attempts, 
he  had  caught  at  last,  as  it  flew  by  him,  44  I'll  not  hurt 
thee," — says  my  uncle  Toby,  rising  from  his  chair  and 
going  across  the  room,  with  the  fly  in  his  hand.  44  I'll 
not  hurt  a  hair  of  thy  head;  44  Go,"  says  he,  lifting  up 
the  sash  and  opening  his  hand  as  he  spoke,  to  let  it  es- 
cape, 44  go  poor  fellow,  get  thee  gone,  why  should  I  hurt 
thee?  This  tcorld,  surely,  is  toide  enough  to  hold  both  thee 
and  me" 

%*  This  is  to  serve  for  parents  and  governors,  instead 
of  a  whole  volume  upon  the  subject. — Sterne. 


THE  CAPTIVE. 

Beshrew  the  sombre  pencil !  said  I,  vauntingl}r — for  I 
envy  not  its  powers,  which  paints  the  evils  of  life  with 
so  hard  and  deadly  a  coloring.  The  mind  sits  terrified 
at  the  objects  she  has  magnified  herself,  and  blackened: 
reduce  them  to  their  proper  size  and  hue,  she  overlooks 
them.  'Tis  true,  said  I,  correcting  the  proposition — the 
Bastile  is  not  an  evil  to  be  despised — but  strip  it  of  its 
towers — fill  up  the  fosse — unbarricade  the  doors — call 
it  simply  a  confinement  and  suppose  it  is  some  tyrant  of 
a  distenjper. — and  not  a  man — which  holds  you  in  it — 
the  evil  vanishes,  and  you  bear  the  other  half  without 
complaint. 


24 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


I  was  interrupted  in  the  hey-day  of  this  soliloquy, 
with  a  voice  which  I  took  to  be  a  child's,  which  com- 
plained 44  it  could  not  get  out."  T  looked  up  and  down 

the  passage,  and  seeing  neither  man,  woman,  or  child,  I 
went  out  without  further  attention. 

In  my  return  back  through  the  passage,  I  heard  the 
same  words  repeated  twice  over;  and  looking  up,  I  saw 
it  was  a  starling  hanging  in  a  little  cage — 44  I  can't  get 
out — I  can't  get  out,"  said  the  starling. 

I  stood  looking  at  the  bird;  and  to  every  person  who 
came  through  the  passage,  it  ran  fluttering  to  the  side 
toward  which  they  approached  it,  with  the  same  lament- 
ation of  its  captivity — 44  I  can't  get  out,"  said  the  star- 
ling— 44  God  help  thee!"  said  I,  44  but  I  will  let  thee  out, 
cost  what  it  will;"  so  I  turned  about  the  cage  to  get  at 
the  door;  it  was  twisted  and  double  twisted  so  fast  with 
wire,  there  was  no  getting  it  open  without  pulling  the 
cage  to  pieces — I  took  both  hands  to  it. 

The  bird  Hew  to  the  place  where  I  was  attempting  his 
deliverance,  and  thrusting  his  head  through  the  trellis, 
pressed  his  breast  against  it,  as  if  impatient, — 44  I  fear, 
poor  creature!"  said  I,."  I  can  not  set  thee  at  liberty  " — 
"No,"  said  the  starling,  44  I  can't  get  out,  1  can't  get 
out." 

I  vow  I  never  had  my  affections  more  tenderly 
awakened;  nor  do  I  remember  an  incident  in  my  life, 
where  the  dissipated  spirits,  to  which  my  reason  had 
been  a  bubble,  were  so  suddenly  called  home.  Mechani- 
cal as  the  notes  were,  yet,  so  true  in  tune  to  nature  were 
they  chanted,  that  in  one  moment  they  overthrew  all  my 
systematic  reasonings  upon  the  Bastile;  and  I  heavily 
walked  up  stairs,  unsaying  every  word  I  had  said  in 
going  down  them. 

44  Disguise  thyself  as  thou  wilt,  still,  Slavery,"  said 
I,  44  still  thou  art  a  bitter  draught!  and  though  thousands 
in  all  ages  have  been  made  to  drink  of  thee,  thou  art  no 
less  bitter  on  that  account. — Tis  thou,  thrice  sweet  and 
gracious  goddess,  Liberty!  whom  all  in  public  or  in 
private  worship,  whose  taste  is  grateful,  and  ever  will 
be  so,  till- Nature  hersclf'shall  change — no  tint  of  words 
can  spot  thy  snowy  mantle,  or  chymic  power  turn  thy 


THE  CAPTIVE, 


29 


scepter  into  iron — with  thee  to  smile  upon  him  as  he  eats 
his  crust,  the  swain  is  happier  than  his  monarch,  from 
whoso  court  thou  art  exiled. — Gracious  heaven  !  grant 
me  but  health,  thou  great  bestower  of  it,  and  give  mo 
but  this  fair  goddess  as  my  companion — and  shower  down 
thy  mitres,  if  it  seems  good  unto  thy  divine  providence, 
upon  those  heads  which  are  aching  for  them. 

The  bird  in  his  cage  pursued  me  into  my  room;  I  sat 
down  close  by  my  table,  and  leaning  my  head  upon  my 
hand,  T  began  to  figure  to  myself  the  miseries  of  confine- 
ment. I  was  in  a  right  frame  for  it,  so  I  gave  full  scope 
to  my  imagination. 

I  was  going  to  begin  with  the  millions  of  my  fellow- 
creatures  born  to  no  inheritance  but  slavery;  but  finding, 
however  affecting  the  picture  was,  that  I  could  not  bring 
it  near  me,  and  that  the  multitude  of  said  groups  in  it 
did  but  distract  me  

— I  took  a  single  captive,  and  having  first  shut  him  up 
in  his  dungeon,  I  then  looked  through  the  twilight  of  his 
grated  door  to  take  his  picture. 

I  beheld  his  body  half  wasted  away  with  long  expecta- 
tion and  confinement,  and  felt  what  kind  of  sickness  of 
the  heart  it  was  which  arises  from  hope  deferred. — Upon 
looking  nearer,  I  saw  him  pale  and  feverish: — in  thirty 
years  the  western  breeze  had  not  once  fanned  his  blood — 
he  had  seen  no  sun,  no  moon,  in  all  that  time— nor  had 
the  voice  of  friend  or  kinsman  breathed  through  his  lat- 
tice— his  children  

— But  here  my  heart  began  to  bleed — and  I  was  forced 
to  go  on  with  another  part  of  the  portrait. 

He  was  sitting  upon  the  ground  upon  a  little  straw,  in 
the  furthest  corner  of  his  dungeon,  which  was  alternately 
his  chair  and  bed;  a  little  calendar  of  small  sticks  were 
laid  at  the  head,  notched  all  over  with  the  dismal  days 
and  nights  he  had  passed  there — he  had  one  of  these 
little  sticks  in  his  hand,  and  with  a  rusty  nail  he  was 
etching  another  day  of  misery  to  add  to  the  heap.  As  I 
darkened  the  little  light  he  had,  he  lifted  up  a  hopeless 
eye  towards  the  door,  then  cast  it  down — shook  his  head, 
and  went  on  with  his  work  of  affliction.  I  heard  the 
chains  upon  Ms  legs,  as  he  turned  his  body  to  lay  hits 


26 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


little  stick  upon  the  bundle.  He  gave  a  deep  sigh 
saw  the  iron  enter  into  his  soul — I  burst  into  tears 
could  not  sustain  the  picture  of  confinement  which 
fancy  had  drawn. — Sterne. 


PLEASURES  OF  THE  IMAGINATION. 

There  most  conspicuous  doth  beauty  dwell, 

Where  dawns  the  high  expression  of  the  mind; 

By  steps  conducting  our  enraptured  search 

To  that  eternal  origin,  whose  power 

Through  all  the  unbounded  symmetry  of  things, 

Like  rays  effulging  from  the  parent  sun, 

This  endless  mixture  of  her  charms  diffused. 

Mind,  mind  alone,  bear  witness  earth  and  heaven! 

The  living  fountains  in  itself  contains 

Of  beauteous  and  sublime.    Is  aught  so  fair, 

In  all  the  dewy  landscapes  of  the  spring, 

In  the  bright  eye  of  Hesper  or  the  morn, 

In  nature's  fairest  forms  is  aught  so  fair 

As  graceful  tears  that  stream  for  other's  woes 

In  virtuous  sympathy?    The  candid  blush 

Of  him  who  strives  with  fortune  to-  be  just? 

Or  the  mild  majesty  of  private  life, 

Where  peace  with  ever  blooming  olive  crowns 

The  gate ;  where  honor's  liberal  hands  effuse 

Unenvied  treasures,  and  the  snowy  wings 

Of  innocence  and  love  protect  the  scene. 

The  forms  which  brute  unconscious  matter  wears 

Greatness  of  bulk  or  symmetry  of  parts, 

Not  reaching  to  the  heart,  soon  feeble  grows, 

Their  superficial  impulse,  dull  their  charms. 

Not  so  the  moral  species,  nor  the  powers 

Of  genius  and  design:  the  ambitious  mind, 

Well-pleased,  there  sees  herself.    For  of  all 

The  inhabitants  of  earth,  to  man  alone, 

Creative  wisdom  gave  to  lift  his  eye 

To  truth's  eternal  measures;  thence  to  frame 

The  sacred  laws  of  action  and  of  will, 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


27 


Discerning  justice  from  unequal  deeds, 
And  temperance  from  folly.    But  beyond 
This  energy  of  truth  whose  dictates  bind 
Assenting  reason,  the  benignant  sire, 
To  deck  the  honored  path  of  just  and  good, 
Has  added  bright  imagination's  rays; 
Where  virtue  rises  from  the  awful  depth 
Of  truth's  mysterious  bosom,  and  attracts 
With  charms  responsive  to  each  kindred  hope, 
The  ingenious  mind  of  man.    Not  a  breeze 
Flies  o'er  the  meadow,  not  a  cloud  imbibes 
The  setting  sun's  effulgence,  not  a  strain 
From  all  the  tenants  of  the  warbling  shade 
Ascends;  but  whence  his  bosom  can  partake 
Fresh  pleasure  freely;  for  the  attentive  mind 
By  this  harmonious  action  on  her  powers, 
Becomes  herself  harmonious.    Would  the  forms 
Of  servile  custom  cramp  her  generous  powers? 
Would  sordid  policies,  the  barbarous  growth 
Of  ignorance  and  rapine,  bow  her  down 
To  tame  pursuits,  to  indolence  and  fear? 
Lo  !  she  appeals  to  nature;  to  the  winds 
And  rolling  waves,  the  sun's  unwearied  course, 
The  elements  and  seasons:  all  declare 
For  what  the  eternal  maker  has  ordained 
The  powers  of  man:  we  feel  within  ourselves 
His  energy  divine;  he  tells  the  heart, 
He  meant,  he  made  us  to  behold  and  love 
What  he  beholds  and  loves,  the  general  orb 
Of  life  and  being;  to  be  great  like  him, 
Beneficent  and  active. — Akenside. 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 

The  better  sort  of  people  pretend  to  the  utmost  com- 
passion for  animals  of  every  kind.  To  hear  them  speak , 
a  stranger  would  be  apt  to  imagine  they  could  hardly 
hurt  the  gnat  that  stung  them;  they  seem  so  tender  and 
so  full  of  pity,  that  one  would  take  them  for  the  harm- 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


less  friends  of  the  whole  creation;  the  protectors  of  the 
meanest  insect  or  reptile  that  was  privileged  with  ex- 
istence. And  yet,  would  you  believe  it,  Lhave  seen  the 
very  men  who  have  thus  boasted  of  their  tenderness,  at 
the  same  time  devouring  the  flesh  of  six  different  animals 
tossed  up  in  a  fricassee.  Strange  contrariety  of  conduct; 
they  pity,  and  they  eat  the  objects  of  their  compassion. 
The  lion  roars  with  terror  over  its  captive;  the  tiger 
sends  forth  its  hideous  shriek  to  intimidate  its  prey;  no 
creature  shows  any  fondness  for  its  short  lived  prisoner, 
except  a  man  and  a  cat. 

Man  was  born  to  live  with  innocence  and  simplicity, 
but  he  has  deviated  from  nature;  he  was  born  to  share 
the  bounties  of  heaven,  but  he  has  monopolized  them;  he 
was  born  to  govern  the  brute  creation,  but  he  has  become 
their  tyrant.  If  an  epicure  now  should  happen  to  surfeit 
on  his  last  night's  feast,  twenty  animals  the  next  day  are 
to  undergo  the  most  exquisite  tortures,  in  order  to  pro- 
voke his  appetite  to  another  guilty  meal.  Hail,  0  ye 
simple,  honest  bramins  of  the  east!  ye  inoffensive  friends 
of  ail  that  were  born  to  happiness  as  well  as  you!  You 
never  sought  a  short  lived  pleasure  from  the  miseries  of 
other  creatures- — you  never  studied  the  tormenting  arts 
of  ingenious  refinement — you  never  surfeited  upon  a  guilty 
meal.  How  much  more  purified  and  refined  are  atl  your 
sensations  than  ours!  You  distinguished  every  element 
with  the  utmost  precision:  a  stream  untasted  before  is 
new  luxury,  a  change  of  air  is  a  new  banquet,  too  refined 
for  western  imaginations  to  conceive. 

Though  the  Europeans  do  not  hold  the  transmigration 
of  souls,  yet  one  of  their  doctors  has,  with  great  force  of 
argument,  and  great  plausibility  of  reasoning,  endeavored 
to  prove,  that  the  bodies  of  animals  are  the  inhabitants 
of  demons  and  wicked  spirits,  which  are  obliged  to  reside 
in  these  prisons,  till  the  resurrection  pronounces  their 
everlasting  punishment;  but  are  previously  condemned 
to  suffer  all  the  pains  and  hardships  inflicted  upon  them 
by  man,  or  by  each  other  here.  If  this  be  the  case,  it 
may  frequently  happen,  that  while  we  whip  pigs  to  death, 
or  boil  live  lobsters,  we  are  putting  some  old  acquain- 
tance, some  near  relation,  to  excruciating  tortures,  and 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


29 


are  serving  him  up  to  the  very  same  table  where  he  was 
once  the  most  welcome  companion. 

"Kabul,"  says  the  Zendavesta  [of  Zoroaster,]  "was 
born  on  the  rushy  banks  of  the  river  Mawra:  his  posses- 
sions were  great,  and  his  luxuries  kept  pace  with  the 
affluence  of  his  fortune;  he  hated  the  harmless  bramins, 
and  despised  their  holy  religion;  every  day  his  table  was 
decked  out  with  the  flesh  of  an  hundred  different  animals, 
and  his  cooks  had  an  hundred  different  ways  of  dressing 
it  to  solicit  even  satiety. 

"Notwithstanding  all  his  eating,  he  did  not  arrive  at 
old  age;  he  died  of  a  surfeit,  caused  by  intemperance; 
upon  this,  his  soul  was  carried  off,  in  order  to  take  its 
trial  before  a  elect  assembly  of  the  souls  of  those  animals 
which  his  gluttony  had  caused  to  be  slain,  and  who  were 
now  appointed  his  judges. 

"He  trembled  before  a  tribunal,  to  every  member  of 
which  he  had  formerly  acted  as  an  unmerciful  tyrant;  he 
sought  for  pity,  but  found  none  disposed  to  grant  it. 
Does  he  not  remember,  cries  the  angry  boar,  to  what 
agonies  I  was  put,  not  to  satisfy  his  hunger,  but  his 
vanity  ?  I  was  first  hunted  to  death,  and  my  flesh  scarce 
thought  worthy  of  coming  once  to  his  table.  Were  my 
advice  followed,  he  should  do  penance  in  the  shape  of  an 
hog,  which  in  life  he  most  resembled. 

"I  am  rather,  cries  a  sheep  upon  the  bench,  for  having 
him  suffer  under  the  appearance  of  a  lamb;  we  may  then 
send  him  through  four  or  five  transmigrations  in  the  space 
of  a  month.  Were  my  voice  of  any  weight  in  the  assem- 
bly, cries  a  calf,  he  should  rather  assume  such  a  form  as 
mine;  I  was  bled  every  day,  in  order  to  make  my  flesh 
white,  and  at  last  killed  without  mercy.  Would  it  not 
be  wiser,  cries  a  hen,  to  cram  him  in  the  shape  of  a  fowl, 
and  then  smother  him  in  his  own  blood  as  I  was  served? 
The  majority  of  the  assembly  were  pleased  with  this 
punishment,  and  were  going  to  condemn  him  without 
further  delay,  when  the  ox  rose  up  to  give  his  opinion. 
I  am  informed,  says  this  counsellor,  that  the  prisoner  at 
the  bar  has  left  a  wife  with  child  behind  him.  By  my 
knowledge  in  divination,  I  foresee  that  this  child  will  be 
a  son,  decrepid,  feeble,  sickly,  a  plague  to  himself  and 


30 


SPIRIT  OE  HUMANITY. 


all  about  him.  What  say  you  then,  my  companions,  if 
we  condemn  the  father  to  animate  the  body  of  his  own 
son;  and  by  this  means  make  him  feel  to  himself  those 
miseries  his  intemperance  must  otherwise  have  entailed 
upon  his  posterity?  The  whole  court  applauded  the  in- 
genuity of  his  torture;  they  thanked  him  for  his  advice. 
Kabul  was  driven  once  more  to  revisit  earth;  and  his 
soul,  in  the  body  of  his  own  son, ..passed  a  period  of  thirty 
years,  loaded  with  misery,  anxiety,  and  disease." — Gold- 
smith. 


A  TRANSMIGRATION  NARRATED 

Let  those  whom  folly  prompts  to  sneer, 
Attend  and  learn  from  fables  here; 
Behold  how  brutes  can  morals  teach, 
And  birds  like  soundest  casuists  preach. 

Though  it  be  generally  allowed,  that  to  communicate 
happiness  is  the  characteristic  of  virtue,  yet  this  happi- 
ness is  seldom  considered  as  extending  beyond  our  own 
species;  and  no  man  is  thought  to  become  vicious,  by 
sacrificing  the  life  of  an  animal  to  the  pleasure  of  hitting 
a  mark.  It  is,  however,  certain,  that  by  this  act  more 
happiness  is  destroyed  than  produced;  except  it  be  sup- 
posed, that  happiness  should  be  estimated,  not  in  propor- 
tion to  its  degree  only,  but  to  the  rank  of  the  being  by 
whom  it  is  enjoyed,  but  this  is  a  supposition  which  can 
not  easily  be  supported.  [Reason  and  sympathy  confer  on 
man  his  superiority,  and  they  should  mutually  support 
and  guide  each  other.]  Reason  in  the  present  case  should 
be  considered  only  as  sensibility;  a  blow  may  produce 
more  pain  to  a  man  than  to  a  brute;  because  to  a  man  it 
may  be  aggravated  by  a  sense  of  indignity;  and  therefore 
felt  as  often  as  it  is  recollected.  But  it  may  be  justly 
asserted  that  the  same  degree  of  pain  in  both  subjects,  is 
in  the  same  degree  an  evil ;  and  that  it  can  not  be  wantonly 
inflicted  without  equal  violation  of  right.  Neither  does  it 
follow  from  the  contrary  positions,  that  man  should  ab- 
stain from^  animal  food,  for  by  him  that  kills  merely  to 
eat,  life  is  sacrificed  only  to  life;  and  if  man  had  lived 


A  TRANSMIGRATION  NARRATED. 


31 


upon  fruits  and  herbs,  the  greater  part  of  those  animals 
which  die  to  furnish  his  table,  would  never  have  lived; 
instead  of  increasing  the  breed  as  a  pledge  of  plenty,  he 
would  have  been  compelled  to  destroy  them  to  prevent  a 
famine.  There  is  great  difference  between  killing  for 
[necessity  or]  food,  and  killing  for  sport.  To  take 
pleasure  in  that  by  which  pain  is  inllicted,  if  it  is  not 
vicious,  is  dangerous;  and  every  practice  which  if  not 
criminal  in  itself,  yet  wears  out  the  sympathising  sensi- 
bility of  a  tender  mind,  must  render  human  nature  pro- 
portionally less  fit  for  society.  In  my  pursuit  of  this 
train  of  thought,  I  considered  the  inequality  with  which 
happiness  appears  to  be  distributed  among  the  brute  cre- 
ation, as  different  animals  are  in  a  different  degree  ex- 
posed to  the  capricious  cruelty  of  mankind;  and  in  the 
fervor  of  my  imagination,  I  began  to  think  it  possible 
that  they  might  participate  in  a  future  retribution,  espe- 
cially as  mere  matter  and  motion  approach  no  nearer  to 
sensibility  than  to  thought;  and  he  who  will  not  venture 
to  deny  that  brutes  have  sensibility,  should  not  hastily 
pronounce  that  they  have  only  a  material  existence. 
While  my  mind  was  thus  busied,  my  attention  was  remit- 
ted by  degrees,  and  I  fell  into  a  profound  sleep.  [The 
impression  of  past  events  stimulated  my  inventive  faculty, 
and  I  fancied  myself  the  auditor  of  a  being  narrating  the 
metempsychosis  or  transmigrations  it  had  undergone,  as 
follows:] 

"In  the  form  of  a  work-horse  I  was  a  loser  by  my  ex- 
istence: for  during  my  whole  life  there  was  scarce  an 
interval  of  an  hour  in  which  I  did  not  suffer  the  accumu- 
lated misery  of  blows,  hunger  and  fatigue.  When  I  was 
a  colt,  I  was  stolen  by  a  vagrant,  who  placed  two  children 
upon  my  back  in  a  pair  of  panniers,  before  I  had  perfectly 
the  habit  of  carrying  my  own  weight  with  steadiness  and 
dexterity.  By  hard  fare  and  ill  treatment,  I  quickly  be- 
came blind,  and  was  staked  as  a  bet  against  a  couple  of 
geese,  which  had  been  found  by  a  fellow  who  came  by, 
driving  before  him  two  of  my  brethren  whom  he  had 
overloaded  with  bags  of  sand;  a  copper  was  thrown  up, 
and  to  the  inexpressible  increase  of  my  calamity,  of  these 
gamblers  the  dealer  in  sand  was  the  winner. 


32 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY 


' ' When  I  came  to  town,  I  was  harnessed  with  my  two 
wretched  associates  to  a  cart  in  which  my  new  master 
had  piled  up  his  commodity  till  it  would  hold  no  more. 
The  load  was  so  disproportionate  to  our  strength,  that  it 
was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  and  labor,  dragged  very 
slowly  over  the  rugged  pavement  of  the  streets,  in  which 
every  stone  was  an  almost  insufferable  obstacle  to  our 
progress.  One  morning  very  early  as  we  were  toiling  up 
a  steep  hill  with  repeated  efforts  of  strength,  and  stimu- 
lated even  to  agony  by  the  incessant  strokes  of  a  whip, 
which  had  already  laid  our  loins  bare  even  to  the  bone; 
it  happened  that  being  placed  in  the  shafts,  and  the  weight 
pressing  hard  upon  me,  I  fell  down.  Our  driver  regarded 
our  misfortune  not  with  pity,  but  rage,  and  the  moment 
he  turned  about  he  threw  a  stick  with  such  violence  that 
it  forced  out  my  eye,  and  passing  through  the  socket  into 
the  brain,  I  was  dismissed  from  that  miserable  form  of 
existence. 

uAsa  blood  horse  I  was  no  longer  the  slave  of  indigence, 
but  the  pride  of  wealth;  my  eminent  stature  and  the  el- 
egance of  my  make,  placed  me  among  the  favorites  of 
mankind.  But  what  avails  it  to  be  the  favorite  of  caprice, 
avarice  and  barbarity?  My  tyrant  was  a  wretch,  who 
had  gained  a  considerable  fortune  by  play,  particularly 
by  racing.  I  had  won  him  many  large  sums,  and  at 
length  having  no  equal,  he  regarded  even  my  excellence 
with  malignity,  when  it  was  no  longer  subservient  to  his 
interest.  At  last  a  new  competitor  appeared;  I  rushed 
into  the  field  for  the  conquest,  and  at  the  first  heat  put 
my  master  in  possession  of  ten  thousand  pounds.  The 
race  was  repeated  for  double  the  sum,  to  secure  which 
my  master  cruelly  and  fraudulently  determined  to  sacrifice 
my  life  at  the  very  moment  in  which  every  nerve  should 
be  strained  in  his  service!  After  enduring  treatment  the 
most  debilitating,  and  inexpressibly  brutal,  I  was  instantly 
mounted  and  spurred  on  the  goal.  I  determined  to  die 
as  I  had  lived,  without  an  equal;  and  having  again  won 
the  race,  I  sunk  down  at  the  post  in  an  agony,  which 
soon  put  an  end  to  my  life. 

"I  was  next  received  in  the  material  organization  of  a 
mongrel  dog;  I  was  indeed  greatly  caressed:  but  my 


A  TRANSMIGRATION  NARRATED. 


33 


master,  in  order  as  he  said  to  increase  my  beauty,  as  well 
as  my  strength,  soon  disencumbered  me  of  my  ears  and  tail. 
Besides  the  pain  that  I  suffered  in  the  operation,  I  ex- 
perienced the  disadvantages  of  this  mutilation  in  a  thou- 
sand instances;  this,- however,  was  but  a  small  part  of 
the  calamity  which  in  this  state  I  was  appointed  to  suffer. 

"My  master  had  a  son  about  four  years  old,  who  was 
yet  a 'greater  favorite  than  myself;  and  his  passions  hav- 
ing been  always  indulged  as  soon  as  they  appeared,  he 
was  encouraged  to  gratify  his  resentment  against  any 
thing,  whether  animate  or  inanimate,  that  had  offended 
him,  by  beating  me;  and  when  he  did  any  mischief,  for 
of  other  faults  little  notice  was  taken,  the  father,  the 
mother,  or  the  maid,  were  sure  to  chastise  me  in  his 
stead. 

"This  treatment  was  no  longer  to  be  borne:  early  one 
morning,  therefore,  I  departed.  I  continued  my  journey 
till  the  afternoon  without  stopping,  though  it  rained  hard. 
About  four  o'clock  I  passed  through  a  village;  and  per- 
ceiving a  heap  of  shavings  that  were  sheltered  from  the 
wet  by  the  thatch  of  a  house  which  some  carpenters  were 
repairing,  I  crept  as  I  thought  unnoticed  into  the  corner, 
and  laid  myself  down  upon  them:  but  a  man  who  was 
planing  a  board,  observing  that  I  was  a  strange  dog,  and 
of  a  mongrel  breed,  resolved  to  make  himself  and  his  com* 
panions  merry  at  my  expence:  for  the  purpose,  having 
made  a  hole  about  two  inches  in  diameter  in  a  piece  of 
deal,  he  suddenly  catched  me  up,  and  putting  the  remain- 
der of  my  tail  through  this  diabolical  engine,  he  made  it 
fast  by  driving  in  a  wedge,  with  a  heavy  mallet,  which 
crushing  the  bone,  put  me  to  inexpressible  torment.  The 
moment  he  set  me  down,  the  wretches  who  had  been  spec- 
tators to  this  waggery,  burst  into  immoderate  laughter 
at  the  awkward  motions  by  which  I  expressed  my  misery, 
and  my  ridiculous  attempt  to  run  away  from  that  which 
I  could  not  but  carry  with  me.  They  hooted  after  me  till 
I  was  out  of  their  sight:  however,  fear,  pain  and  confu- 
sion still  urging  me  forward  with  involuntary  speed,  I 
ran  with  such  force  between  two  pales  that  were  not  far 
enough  asunder  to  admit  my  clog,  that  I  left  it  with  tha 
remainder  of  my  tail  behind  me.    I  then  found  myself 


34 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


a  farm  yard;  and  fearing  that  I  should  be  worried  by  the 
mastiff  which  I  saw  at  a  distance,  I  continued  my  flight; 
but  some  peasants  who  were  at  work  in  a  neighboring 
barn,  perceived  that  I  ran  without  being  pursued,  that  my 
eyes  were  inflamed,  and  that  my  mouth  was  covered  with 
foam,  imagined  that  I  was  mad,  and  knocked  out  my 
brains  with  a  flail. 

"Soon  after  I  had  quitted  this  maimed  and  persecuted 
carcass,  I  found  myself  under  the  wings  of  a  bulfinch, 
with  three  others  that  were  just  hatched.  I  now  rejoiced 
at  the  hope  of  soaring  beyond  the  reach  of  human  bar- 
barity, and  becoming  like  my  mother  a  denizen  of  the 
sky:  but  my  mother,  before  I  was  perfectly  fledged, 
was  surprised  in  her  nest  by  a  school  boy,  who  grasped 
her  so  hard,  to  prevent  her  escape,  that  she  soon  after 
died;  he  then  took  the  nest  with  all  that  it  contained/ 
which  he  deposited  in  a  basket,  where  I  presently  lost 
my  three  companions  in  misfortune,  by  change  of  food 
and  unskilful  management.  I  survived ;  and  as  soon  as 
I  could  feed  myself,  I  was  taken  by  my  tyrant's  mother, 
when  she  went  to  pay  her  rent,  as  a  present  to  her  land- 
lord's daughter,  a  young  lady  who  was  extremely  beauti- 
ful, and  in  the  eighteenth  year  of  her  age. 

"My  captivity  now  began  to  lose  its  terrors;  I  no 
longer  dreaded  the  rude  gripe  of  a  boisterous  urchin, 
whose  fondness  was  scarce  less  dangerous  than  his  resent- 
ment; who,  in  the  zeal  of  his  attachment  to  a  new  play- 
thing, might  neglect  me  till  I  perished  with  hunger;  or 
who  might  wring  my  neck,  because  he  had  some  other 
use  for  the  half-penny  which  should  procure  me  food:  the 
confinement  of  a  cage  became  habitual;  I  was  placed  near 
a  pleasant  window;  I  was  constantly  fed  by  one  of  the 
finest  hands  in  the  world;  and  I  imagined,  that  I  could 
suffer  no  misery  under  the  patronage  of  smiles  and  graces. 

"Such  was  my  situation,  when  a  young  lady  from  Lon- 
don made  an  afternaon's  visit  to  my  mistress:  she  took 
an  opportunity  to  caress  ma  among  her  other  favorites, 
which  were  a  parrot,  a  monkey,  and  a  lapdog;  she  chirped, 
and  holding  out  her  finger  to  me,  I  hopped  upon  it;  she 
stroked  me,  put  my  head  to  her  cheek,  and  to  show  my 
sensibility  of  her  favors  I  began  to  sing;  as  soon  as  my 


A  TRANSMIGRATION  NARRATED 


35 


song  was  over,  she  turned  to  my  mistress,  and  told  her, 
that  the  dear  little  creature  might  be  made  absolutely  one 
of  the  sweetest  birds  in  the  world,  only  by  putting  out 
his  eyes,  and  confining  it  in  a  less  cage.  To  this  horrid 
proposal  my  fair  keeper  agreed,  upon  being  again  told 
that  my  song  would  be  very  greatly  improved;  and  the 
next  day  performed  herself  the  operation,  as  she  had  been 
directed  with  the  end  of  a  hot  knitting-needle.  My  con- 
dition was  now  more  easily  conceived  than  expressed: 
but  I  did  not  long  suffer  the  mournful  solitude  of  perpet- 
ual darkness;  for  a  cat  came  one  night  into  the  room 
undiscovered,  dragged  me  through  the  wires  of  the  cage 
and  devoured  me. 

"I  was  not  displeased  to  find  myself  once  more  at  large; 
delivered  from  blindness  and  captivity,  and  still  able  to 
sport  upon  the  breeze  in  the  form  of  a  cockchafer.  But 
I  had  scarce  entered  this  new  scene  of  existence,  when  a 
gentleman,  in  whose  garden  I  was,  feasting  on  one  of  the 
leaves  of  a  cherry  tree,  caught  me,  and  turning  to  his  son, 
a  boy  who  had  just  been  put  into  his  first  breeches,  "Here, 
Tommy,"  says  he,  "is  a  bird  for  you."  The  boy  received 
me  with  a  grin  of  horrid  delight,  and,  as  he  had  been 
taught,  immediately  impaled  me  alive  upon  a  corking-pin, 
to  which  a  piece  of  thread  was  fastened ;  and  I  was  doom- 
ed to  make  my  young  master  sport,  by  fluttering  about  in 
the  agonies  of  death;  and  when  I  was  quite  exhausted, 
and  could  no  longer  use  my  wings,  he  was  bid  to  tread 
upon  me,  for  that  I  was  now  good  for  nothing;  a  command 
with  which  he  mercifully  complied,  and  in  a  moment 
crushed  me  to  atoms. 

"From  a  cockchafer  I  transmigrated  into  an  earth 
worm,  and  found  myself  at  the  bottom  of  a  farmer's  dung- 
hill. Under  this  change  of  circumstances  I  comforted 
myself  by  considering,  that  if  I  did  not  now  mount  upon 
the  wind,  and  transport  myself  from  place  to  place  with 
a  swiftness  almost  equal  to  thought,  yet  I  was  not  likely 
either  to  please  or  offend  mankind,  both  of  which  were 
equally  fatal;  and  I  hoped  to  spend  my  life  in  peace,  by 
escaping  the  notice  of  the  most  cruel  of  all  creatures. 
^  "But  I  did  not  long  enjoy  the  comforts  of  these  reflec- 
tions.   [  was  one  morning  disturbed  by  an  unusual  noise, 


36  SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 

and  perceived  the  ground  about  me  to  shake.  I  immedi- 
ately worked  my  way  upward  to  discover  the  cause;  and 
the  moment  I  appeared  above  the  surface,  I  was  eagerly 
snatched  up  by  a  man  who  had  stuck  a  dung-fork  into  the 
ground,  and  moved  it  backward  and  forward  to  produce 
the  effect  that  had  now  happened.  I  was  put  into  a  broken 
pan,  with  many  other  associates  in  misfortune,  and  soon 
after  disposed  of  to  one  of  those  gentle  swains  who  delight 
in  angling.  This  person  carried  us  the  next  morning  to 
the  brink  of  a  river,  where  I  presently  saw  him  take  out 
one  of  my  companions,  and,  whistling  a  tune,  passed  a 
barbed  hook  through  the  whole  length  of  his  body,  enter- 
ing it  at  the  head  and  bringing  it  out  at  the  tail.  The 
wretched  animal  writhed  itself  on  the  bloody  hook,  in 
torture  which  can  not  be  conceived  by  man,  nor  felt  by 
any  creature  that  is  not  vital  in  every  part.  In  this  con- 
dition he  was  suspended  in  the  water  as  a  bait  for  fish, 
till  he  was  together  with  the  hook  on  which  he  hung, 
swallowed  by  an  eel.  While  I  was  beholding  this  dread- 
ful spectacle,  I  made  many  reflections  on  the  great  in- 
equality between  the  pleasure  of  catching  their  prey,  and 
the  anguish  inflicted  on  the  bart.  But  these  reflections 
were  presently  after  lost,  in  the  same  agonies  of  which  I 
had  been  a  spectator. 

"You  will  not  have  room  to  relate  all  that  I  suffered 
from  the  thoughtless  barbarity  of  mankind,  in  a  cock,  a 
lobster,  and  a  pig;  let  it  suffice  to  say,  that  I  suffered  the 
same  kind  of  death  with  those  who  were  broken  upon  the 
wheel;  I  was  roasted  alive  before  a  slow  fire,  and  was 
scourged  to  death  with  small  cords,  to  gratify  the  wanton 
appetite  of  luxury,  or  contribute  to  the  merriment  of  a 
rabble.  As  a  blackbird  I  fell  by  the  unprovoked  enmity 
of  man. 

The  blackbird  raised  his  am'rous  song, 
And  thus  it  echoed  through  tha  grove, 

It  was  amid  the  vernal  throng, 

Whom  nature  wakes  to  mirth  and  love. 

"With  thee  I'll  prove  the  sweets  of  love, 
With  thee  divide  the  cares  of  life; 


A  TRANSMIGRATION  NARB  ATED. 


37 


No  fonder  husband  in  the  grove, 
Nor  none  that  thee  a  happier  wife 

••I'll  lead  thee  to  the  clearest  rill, 
Whose  streams  among  the  pebbles  stray; 

There  will  we  sit  and  sip  our  fill, 
Or  on  the  flowery  border  play. 

"I'll  guide  thee  to  the  thickest  brake, 
Impervious  to  the  school-boy's  eye: 

For  thee  the  plastered  nest  I'll  make, 
4-nd  on  thy  downy  pinions  lie. 

"To  get  thee  food  I'll  range  the  fields, 

And  cull  the  best  of  every  kind; 
Whatever  nature's  bounty  yields, 

Or  love's  assiduous  care  can  find. 

"And  when  my  lovely  mate  would  stray, 
To  taste  the  summer  sweets  at  large, 

At  home  I'll  wait  the  live-long  day, 
And  tend  at  home  our  infant  charge. 

"When  prompted  by  a  mother's  care, 

Thy  warmth  shall  form  th'  imprisoned  young. 

With  thee  the  task  I'll  fondly  share, 
Or  cheer  thy  labors  with  my  song." 

He  ceased  his  song.    The  melting  dame 
With  tender  pity  heard  his  strain ; 

She  felt,  she  owned  a  mutual  flame, 
And  hastened  to  relieve  his  pain. 

Together  through  the  fields  they  strayed 

And  to  the  verdant  rivulet's  side, 
Renewed  their  vows,  and  hopped  and  played 

With  honest  joy  and  decent  pride. 

But  0!  my  muse  with  pain  relates 

The  mournful  sequel  of  my  tale* 
Sent  by  an  order  of  the  fates, 

A  gunner  met  them  in  the  vale. 
5 


38 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


Alarmed  the  lover  cried,  "My  dear, 
Haste,  haste  away;  from  danger  flee! 

Here,  gunner,  turn  thy  vengeance,  here!— 
The  sportsman  heard,  "and  murdered  me." 

The  last  change  was  into  a  beautiful  young  woman, 
who  continued: 

4 'Unhappy  being!  in  this  state  I  am  exposed  to  greater 
calamities  than  those  which  I  have  yet  suffered.  Un- 
principled man  is  still  my  enemy;  he  assails  me  with 
greater  artifice,  and,  persists  with  more  obstinacy.  The 
eyes  of  desire  are  upon  me,  and  to  betray  me  will  be  the 
toil  of  perseverance,  and  the  study  of  reason.  I  am  now 
exposed  to  danger,  not  only  from  accidental  evils  and  the 
frolics  of  levity,  but  from  the  selfish  design  of  cunning. 
Warn,  then,  the  sex,  of  the  wiles  practised  for  their  de- 
struction; and  deter  men  from  the  attempt,  by  displaying 
the  aggravated  guilt  and  shameless  disingenuity  of  assum- 
ing an  appearance  of  the  most  ardent  and  tender  affection, 
only  to  overwhelm  with  unutterable  distress,  the  beauty 
whom  love  has  made  credulous,  and  innocence  keeps  un- 
acquainted with  suspicion.  Publish  all  that  I  have  com- 
municated; that  man  may  be  reclaimed  from  this  criminal 
inattention  to  the  felicity  of  inferior  beings,  and  restrained 
from  inflicting  pain,  by  considering  the  effect  of  his 
actions." — Hawkesworth's  Adventurer. 


SELECTED  MAXIMS. 

To  punish  in  wrath  is  generally  followed  with  bitter 
repentance. 

The  most  subtle  revenge,  sometimes,  is  to  overlook 
the  offence.  The  intended  affront  recoils  and  torments 
our  adversary  with  a  sting  of  a  disappointment. 

Luxury  possibly  may  contribute  to  give  bread  to  the 
poor;  but  if  there  were  no  luxury  there  would  be  no 
poor. 

Reflect  on  the  common  lot  of  humanity  and  the  mis- 
fortunes that  have  befallen  others ;  and  you  will  not  find 
your  own  to  be  of  the  first  magnitude. 


SELECTED  MAXIMS 


39 


Abstain  from  injuring  others  if  you  wish  to  be  in 
safety. 

It  is  inhuman  to  make  sport  with  what  is  destructive 
to  others. 

A  habit  of  sincerity  in  acknowledging  faults  is  a  guard 
against  committing  them. 

Allow  others  to  discover  your  merit;  they  will  value 
it  the  more  for  being  their  own  discovery. 

Instead  of  looking  down  with  contempt  on  the  crooked 
in  mind  or  body,  we  should  thankfully  look  up  to  God 
who  has  made  us  better. 

Dispute  not  for  victory  but  for  instruction,  and  yield 
to  reason  from  whatever  quarter. 

Never  suffer  your  courage  to  be  fierce,  your  resolution 
obstinate,  your  wisdom  cunning,  nor  your  patience  sul- 
len. 

Poverty  wants  much,  avarice  every  thing. 

The  avaricious  have  no  enjoyment  of  what  they  re- 
tain; the  liberal  enjoy  even  what  they  give  away. 

Equal  matches  are  generally  the  most  happy. 

Worth  consists  most,  not  in  great  but  in  good  actions. 
Alexander  could  subdue  the  world,  but  it  was  a  nobler 
work  in  Socrates  to  subdue  himself,  and  fulfill  the  whole 
duties  of  life. 

The  principal  end  of  learning  is  not  merely  to  know, 
but  to  know  for  some  end  or  purpose. 

Life  is  short  and  uncertain,  its  best  use  is  to  make  it 
agreeable  to  ourselves  and  others.  Let  us,  then,  culti- 
vate humanity;  let  us  not  be  the  cause  of  fear  or  pain  to 
one  another. 

In  usurpers  and  tyrants,  conscience  sometimes  per- 
forms the  office  of  an  executioner,  and  torments  them 
with  never  ceasing  fears  and  jealousies.  Thus,  the 
cruelty  and  wickedness  of  Tiberius  became  a  punish- 
ment upon  himself,  nor  could  he  refrain  from  expressing 
to  the  Roman  senate  the  agonies  of  his  mind.  Tacitus 
observes,  that  as  the  body  is  torn  with  lashes,  so  is  the 
mind  with  deceit  and  cruelty.  Bessus  the  Peonian,  being 
reproached  as  cruel,  for  pulling  down  a  nest  of  young 
sparrows  and  killing  them,  excused  himself  by  saying 
that  these  little  creatures  never  ceased  accusing  him 


40 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


falsely  of  his  father's  murder,  and  thus  was  the  parricide 
discovered,  which  had  been  perpetrated  in  the  most  secret 
manner. 

Princes  have  courtiers,  the  great  and  powerful  have 
flatterers,  the  wicked  have  accomplices,  the  business  men 
have  partners,  but  none  except  the  virtuous,  that  is  the 
just  and  good,  can  have  friends. 

Civility  is  not  so  slight  a  matter  as  it  is  commonly 
thought:  it  is  a  duty  we  owe  to  others  as  well  as  to  our- 
selves; for  how  unjust  is  it  to  distress  a  person  who 
merits  no  punishment? 

To  what  a  degree  must  good-breeding  adorn  the  beauty 
of  truth,  when  it  can  soften  the  deformity  of  falsehood? 

Temperance,  by  fortifying  the  mind  and  body,  leads  to 
happiness;  intemperance,  by  enervating  the  mind  and 
body,  often  leads  to  misery. 

Men  commonly  owe  their  virtue  or  their  vice  to  edu- 
cation as  much  as  to  nature.  Cruel  laws  may  depopu- 
late a  country,  out  will  scarcely  reform  it. 

There  are  three  stages  of  life,  the  present,  the  past, 
and  the  future.  The  present  is  momentary,  the  future 
dubious,  the  past  only  certain.  It  is  lost  to  the  busy, 
who  have  no  time  to  look  back;  aud  to  the  wicked  who 
have  no  inclination.  That  man  must  keep  a  strict  watch 
over  his  actions,  who  proposes  pleasure  in  reflection. 
He  who  indulges  the  thirst  of  ambition,  the  stubbornness 
of  pride,  the  savageness  of  conquest,  the  shame  of  de- 
ceit,' the  misery  of  avarice,  and  the  bitterness  of  prodi- 
gality, must  forever  be  an  enemy  to  memory.  The  past 
no  longer  in  the  power  of  fortune,  is  to  the  virtuous 
only,  a  constant  source  of  enjoyment.  What  satisfac- 
tion, in  looking  back  with  approbation  !  what  uneasiness 
in  looking  back  with  shame  and  remorse  !  This,  above 
every  consideration,  establishes  the  preference  of  virtue, 
and  sets  it  at  an  infinite  distance  from  vice.  Let  us  con- 
sider every  good  action,  as  adding  to  a  stock  that  will 
support  us,  for  a  lifetime,  in  cheerfulness  and  good  hu- 
mor; a  stock  that  may  be  liberally  used,  without  dimin- 
ution. Let  us  consider  every  vicious  action,  as  con- 
tracting a  debt  beyond  our  power  of  paying,  and  which, 
therefore,  will  distress  us  forever. — Henry  Home's  Art 
of  Thinking. 


(41) 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 

Man  is  that  link  of  the  chain  of  universal  existence  by 
which  spiritual  and  corporeal  beings  are  united.  The 
numbers  and  variety  of  our  inferiors  are  almost  infinite, 
and  the  lives  and  happiness  of  a-  large  portion  are  de- 
pendant on  our  wills.  For  the  use  of  this  power  we  are 
accountable  to  the  Supreme  Creator  and  Governor  of  all 
things ;  but  how  criminal  will  our  account  appear,  when 
laid  before  that  just  and  impartial  judge  !  How  will 
man,  that  sanguinary  tyrant,  be  able  to  excuse  himself 
from  the  charge  of  those  innumerable  cruelties  inflicted 
on  his  unoffending  subjects  committed  to  his  care,  formed 
for  his  benefit,  and  placed  under  his  authority  by  their 
common  Father,  whose  mercy  is  over  all  his  works,  and 
who  expects  that  his  authority  should  be  exercised  not 
only  with  tenderness  and  mercy,  but  in  conformity  to  the 
laws  of  justice  and  gratitude. 

But  what  horrid  deviations  from  these  benevolent  in- 
tentions do~  we  daily  witness!  No  small  part  of  man- 
kind derive  their  chief  amusements  from  the  deaths  and 
sufferings  of  inferior  animals;  a  much  greater,  consider 
them  only  as  engines  of  wood,  or  iron,  useful  in  their 
several  occupations.  The  carman  drives  his  horse  and 
the  carpenter  his  nail,  by  repeated  blows;  and  so  long  as 
these  produce  the  desired  effect,  and  they  both  go,  they 
neither  reflect  or  care  whether  either  of  them  have  any 
sense  of  feeling.  The  butcher  knocks  down  the  stately 
ox,  with  no  more  compassion  than  the  blacksmith  ham- 
mers a  horseshoe ;  and  plunges  his  knife  into  the  throat  of 
the  innocent  lamb,  with  as  little  reluctance  as  the  tailor 
sticks  his  needle  in  the  collar  of  a  coat. 

If  there  are  some  few,  who,  formed  in  a  softer  mould, 
view  with  pity  the  sufferings  of  these  defenceless  crea- 
tures, there  is  scarce  one  who  entertains  the  least  idea, 
that  justice  or  gratitude  can  be  due  to  their  merits,  or 
their  services.  The  social  or  friendly  dog  is  hanged 
without  remorse,  if,  by  barking  in  defence  of  his  master's 
person  and  property,  he  happens  unknowingly  to  disturb 
his  rest:  the  generous  horse,  who  has  carried  his  un- 


42 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


grateful  master  for  many  years  with  ease  and  safety, 
worn  out  with  age  and  infirmities,  contracted  in  his  ser- 
vice, is  by  him  condemned  to  end  his  miserable  days  in  a 
dust  cart,  where  the  more  he  exerts  his  little  remains  of 
spirit,  the  more  he  is  whipped  to  save  his  stupid  driver, 
the  trouble  of  whipping  some  other  less  obedient  to  the 
lash.  Sometimes,  having  been  taught  the  practice  of 
many  unnatural  and  useless  feats  in  a  riding  house,  he  is 
at  last  turned  out,  and  consigned  to  the  dominion  of  a 
hackney-coach- man,  by  whom  he  is  every  day  corrected 
for  performing  those  tricks,  which  he  has  learned  under 
so  long  and  severe  a  discipline.  The  sluggish  bear  in 
contradiction  to  his  nature,  is  taught  to  dance,  for  the 
diversion  of  a  malignant  mob,  by  placing  red  hot  irons 
under  his  feet:  and  the  majestic  bull  is  tortured  by  every 
mode  which  malice  can  invent,  for  no  offence,  but  that 
he  is  gentle,  and  unwilling  to  assail  his  diabolical  tor- 
mentors. These,  with  innumerable  other  acts  of  cruelty, 
injustice,  and  ingratitude,  are  every  day  committed,  not 
only  with  impunity,  but  without  censure,  and  even  with- 
out observation;  but  we  may  be  assured,  that  they  can 
not  finally  pass  away  unnoticed  and  unretaliated. 

The  laws  of  self-defence  undoubtedly  justify  us  in  de- 
stroying those  animals  who  would  destroy  us,  who  injure 
our  properties,  or  annoy  our  persons;  but  not  even 
these,  whenever  their  situation  incapacitates  them  from 
hurting  us.  I  know  of  no  right  which  we  have  to  shoot 
a  bear  on  an  inaceessible  island  of  ice,  or  an  eagle  on 
the  mountain's  top;  whose  lives  can  not  injure  us,  nor 
deaths  procure  us  any  benefit.  We  are  unable  to  give 
life,  and  therefore  ought  not  wantonly  to  take  it  away 
from  the  meanest  insect,  without  sufficient  reason;  they 
all  receive  it  from  the  same  benevolent  hand  as  ourselves, 
and  have  therefore  equal  right  to  enjoy  it. 

The  animals  propagated  by  our  culture,  and  fed  by 
our  care,  we  may  have  a  right  to  deprive  of  life,  because 
it  is  given  and  preserved  to  them  on  that  condition ;  but 
this  should  always  be  performed  with  all  the  tenderness 
and  compassion  which  so  disagreeable  an  office  will  per- 
mit; and  no  circumstances  ought  to  be  omitted,  which 
can  render  their  executions  as  quick  and  easy  as  possible* 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


43 


For  this,  Providence  has  wisely  and  benevolently  pro- 
vided, by  forming  them  in  such  a  manner,  that  their 
flesh  sometimes  becomes  rancid  and  unpalateable  by  a 
painful  and  lingering  death;  and  has  thus  compelled  us 
to  be  merciful  without  compassion,  and  cautious  of  their 
suffering,  for  the  sake  of  ourselves;  but,  if  there  are  any 
whose  tastes  are  so  vitiated,  and  whose  hearts  are  so 
hardened,  as  to  delight  in  such  inhuman  sacrifices,  and 
to  partake  them  without  remorse,  they  should  be  looked 
upon  as  demons  in  human  shapes,  and  expect  a  retalia- 
tion of  those  tortures  which  they  have  inflicted  on  the 
innocent,  for  the  gratification  of  their  own  depraved  and 
unnatural  appetites. 

So  violent  are  the  passions  of  anger  and  revenge  in 
the  human  breast,  that  it  is  not  wonderful  that  men 
should  persecute  their  real  or  imaginary  enemies  with 
cruelty  and  malevolence;  but  that  there  should  exist  in 
nature  a  being  who  can  receive  pleasure  from  giving  pain, 
would  be  totally  incredible,  if  we  were  not  convinced,  by 
melancholy  experience,  that  there  are  not  only  many,  but 
that  this  unaccountable  disposition  is  in  some  manner 
inherent  in  the  nature  of  man.  We  see  children  laugh- 
ing at  the  miseries  which  they  inflict  on  every  unfortu- 
nate animal  which  comes  within  their  power;  savages 
are  ingenious  in  contriving  and  happy  in  executing,  the 
most  exquisite  tortures;  and  the  common  people  of 
many  countries  are  delighted  with  bull-baitings,  prize- 
fightings, executions,  aud  spectacles  of  cruelty  and  hor- 
ror. Though  civilization  may  in  some  degree  abate  this 
native  ferocity,  it  has  not  yet  extirpated  it:  the  most 
polished  are  not  ashamed  to  be  pleased  with  scenes  of 
little  less  barbarity,  and,  to  the  disgrace  of  human  na- 
ture, to  dignify  them  with  the  name  of  sports.  They 
arm  cocks  with  artificial  weapons,  which  nature  had 
kindly  denied  to-  their  malevolence,  and,  with  shonts  of 
applause  and  triumph,  see  them  plunge  them  into  each 
other's  hearts;  they  view  with  delight  the  trembling 
deer  and  defenceless  hare,  flying  for  hours  in  the  utmost 
agonies  of  terror  and  despair,  and  at  last,  sinking  under 
fatigue,  devoured  by  their  merciless  pursuers:  they 
see  with  joy  the  beautiful  pheasant  and  harmless  par- 


44 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


ridge  drop  from  their  flight,  weltering  in  their  blood,  or 
perhaps  perishing  with  wounds  and  hnnger,  under  the 
cover  of  some  friendly  thicket  to  which  they  have  too 
late  retreated  for  safety;  they  triumph  over  the  unsus- 
pecting fish,  whom  they  have  decoyed  by  an  insidious 
pretence  of  feeding,  and  drag  him  from  his  native  ele- 
ment by  a  hook  fixed  to  and  tearing  out  his  entrails :  and 
to  add  to  all  this,  they  spare  neither  labor  nor  expense 
to  preserve  and  propagate  these  innocent  animals,  for 
no  other  end  but  to  multiply  the  objects  of  their  perse- 
cution. 

What  name  should  we  bestow  on  a  superior  being, 
whose  whole  endeavors  were  employed,  and  whose  whole 
pleasure  consisted,  in  terrifying,  ensnaring,  tormenting, 
and  destroying  mankind?  whose  superior  faculties  were 
exerted  in  fomenting  animosities  amongst  them,  in  con- 
triving engines  of  destruction,  and  inciting  them  to  use 
them  in  maiming  and  murdering  each  other?  whose 
power  over  them  was  employed  in  assisting  the  rapa- 
cious, deceiving  the  simple,  and  oppressing  the  innocent? 
who,  without  provocation  or  advantage,  should  continue 
from  day  to  day,  void  of  all  pity  and  remorse,  thus  to 
torment  mankind  for  diversion,  and  at  the  same  time 
endeavor  with  his  utmost  care  to  preserve  their  lives, 
and  to  propagate  their  species,  in  order  to  increase  the 
nnmber  of  victims  devoted  to  his  malevolence,  and  be 
delighted  in  proportion  to  the  miseries  he  occasioned?  I 
say,  what  name  detestable  enough  could  we  find  for  such 
a  being?  yet,  if  we  impartially  consider  the  case,  and 
our  intermediate  situation,  we  must  acknowledge,  that, 
with  regard  to  inferior  animals,  just  such  a  being  is  a 
sportsman. — Soame  Jenyns. 


THE  WOUNDED  DEER. 

Stung  with  the  stroke  and  madding  with  the  pain, 
She  wildly  flies  from  wood  to  wood  in  vain. 
Shoots  o'er  the  Cretan  lawns  with  many  a  bound, 
The  elevating  dart  still  ranking  in  the  wound. 

Virgil. 


THE  WOUNDED  HARE. 


45 


Come  let  us  go  and  kill  us  venison! 
And  yet  it  irks  me,  the  poor  dappled  brutes,  ; 
Being  native  burghers  of  this  desert  city, 
Should  in  their  own  confines,  with  forked  heads 
Have  their  round  haunches  gored. 
The  melancholy  Jaques  grieves  at  that; 
And  this  our  hunter's  life;  swearing  that  we 
Are  mere  usurpers,  tyrants,  and  what's  worse, 
To  fright  the  animals,  and  kill  them  up. 
In  their  assigned  and  native  dwelling  place. — 
Under  an  oak  whose  antique  root  peeps  out 
Upon  the  brook  that  brawls  along  this  wood; 
Unto  this  place  a  poor  sequestered  stag, 
That  from  the  hunters'  aim  had  ta'en  a  hurt, 
Did  come  to  languish;  and  indeed,  indeed, 
The  wretched  animal  heaved  forth  such  groans 
That  their  discharge  did  stretch  his  leathern  coat 
Almost  to  bursting;  and  the  big  round  tears 
Coursed  one  another  down  his  innocent  nose 
In  piteous  chase:  and  thus  the  hairy  fool 
Stood  on  the  extremest  verge  of  the  swift  brook 
Augmenting  it  with  tears. — Shaksjpeare. 

From  the  above  it  may  be  presumed  of  the  bard  of 
Avon,  that  like  Lord  Byron 

He  thought  at  heart  like  courtly  Chesterfield, 
Who  after  a  long  chase  o'er  hills,  dales,  bushes 
And  what  not,  though  he  rode  beyond  all  price, 
Asked  next  day  "  If  ever  men  hunted  twice" 


THE  WOUNDED  HARE. 

Inhuman  man!  curse  on  thy  barbarous  art, 
And  blasted  be  thy  murder-aiming  eye; 
May  never  pity  soothe  thee  with  a  sigh, 

Nor  even  pleasure  glad  thy  cruel  heart! 

Go  live  poor  wanderer  of  the  wood  and  field 
The  bitter  little  that  of  life  remains: 


46 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


No  more  the  thickening  brakes  and  verdant  plains 
To  thee  shall  home,  or  food,  or  pastime  yield. 

Seek,  mangled  wretch,  some  place  of  wonted  rest, 
No  more  of  rest,  but  now  thy  dying  bed! 
The  sheltering  rushes  whistling  o'er  thy  head, 

The  cold  earth  with  thy  bloody  bosom  prest. 

Oft  as  by  winding  Nith,  I,  musing,  wait 
The  sober  eve,  or  hail  the  aheerful  dawn, 
I'll  miss  the  sporting  o'er  the  dewy  lawn, 

And  curse  the  ruffian's  aim.  and  mourn  thy  hapless  fate. 

Bums. 


JOHN  HOWARD. 

John  Howard,  a  man  of  singular  and  transcendant  hu- 
manity, was  the  son  of  a  reputable  merchant  in  London, 
and  born  about  the  year  1725.  In  1742  his  father  died 
leaving  him  in  affluent  circumstances.  In  1765  he  settled 
in  Bedfordshire.  While  he  lived  there  it  was  his  meat 
and  drink  to  make  his  neighbors  happy.  Though  polite 
to  all,  he  neither  sought  nor  admitted  the  company  of  the 
profligate,  however  distinguished  by  rank  or  fortune. 
His  charity  had  no  bounds,  except  those  of  prudence;  and 
was  not  more  commendable  for  the  extent  of  it,  than  for 
the  manner  in  which  it  was  exercised.  He  gave  not  his 
bounty  to  countenance  vice  and  idleness,  but  to  encourage 
virtue  and  industry.  He  was  singularly  useful  in  furnish- 
ing employment  for  the  laboring  poor  of  both  sexes,  at 
those  seasons  when  a  scarcity  of  work  rendered  their  sit- 
uation most  compassionable.  And  at  other  times,  though 
never  inattentive  to  the  tale  of  woe,  he  was  not  easily  im- 
pend upon  by  it,  but  made  himself  acquainted  with  the 
caes.  His  liberality  extended  also  to  adjacent  places,  in 
which  there  are  many  who  call  him  blessed.  Nor  was  it 
confined  to  persons  of  his  own  religious  persuasion,  but 
comprehended  the  necessitous  and  deserving  of  all  parties; 
while  he  was  peculiarly  useful  in  serving  the  interest  of 
the  Christian  society  to  which  he  belonged. 


JOHN  HOWARD. 


47 


But  the  sphere  in  which  he  had  hitherto  moved  was 
too  narrow  for  his  enlarged  mind.  Being  named  in  1773, 
to  the  office  of  the  sheriff  of  Bedfordshire,  from  that  time 
his  scene  of  usefulness  was  extended.  His  office,  as  he 
himself  observes,  brought  the  distress  of  prisoners  more 
immediately  under  his  notice.  A  sense  of  duty  induced 
him  personally  to  visit  the  country -jails,  where  he  ob- 
served such  abuses  as  he  had  no  conception  of;  and  he 
soon  exerted  himself  in  order  to  a  reform.  He  inspected 
also,  prisoners  in  some  neighboring  counties,  and  finding 
in  them  equal  room  for  complaint  and  commiseration,  he 
determined  to  visit  the  principal  prisons  in  England. 
The  farther  he  proceeded  the  more  shocking  were  the 
scenes  presented  to  his  view,  which  induced  him  to  re- 
solve upon  exerting  himself  to  the  utmost,  in  order  to  a 
general  reform  in  these  horrid  places  of  confinement; 
considering  it  as  of  the  highest  importance,  not  only  to 
the  wretched  objects  themselves,  but  also  to  the  commu- 
nity at  large.  Upon  this  subject  he  was  examined  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  in  1774,  when  he  had  the  honor  of 
their  thanks.  This  encouraged  him  to  proceed  in  his 
design.  The  great  object  of  all  was,  to  introduce  a 
thorough  reform  of  morals  into  the  prisons,  where  he  had 
found  the  most  flagrant  vices  to  prevail  in  such  a  degree, 
that  they  were  become  seminaries  of  wickedness  and  vil- 
lainy, and  most  formidable  nuisances  to  the  community. 

Solitude,  labor,  temperance,  and  moral  instruction, 
with  a  scrupulous  attention  to  cleanness,  warmth  and 
ventilation,  were  his  great  principles  of  reform.  To 
mitigate  human  calamity,  to  check  vice,  to  subdue  the 
refractory,  and  soothe  the  repenting,  to  reclaim  rather 
than  punish,  were  the  darling  objects  of  his  wishes;  ob- 
jects surely  worth  the  attention  of  every  wise  and  humane 
government. 

In  order  to  the  attainment  of  these 'great  objects,  M' . 
Howard  spared  no  pains  nor  expense,  and  cheerfully  ex- 
posed himself  to  much  hazard,  particularly  from  that  ma-  i 
lignant  distemper,  of  which  he  saw  many  dying  in  the 
most  loathsome  dungeons,  into  which  none,  who  were  not 
obliged,  would  venture  besides  himself. 


48 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


His  laudable  endeavors  he  had  the  pleasure  to  see,  in 
some  instances,  crowned  with  success,  particularly  in  re- 
gard to  the  healthiness  of  prisons,  some  of  which  were  re- 
built under  his  inspection. 

Most,  if  not  all  of  his  benevolent  plans  for  the  reform 
of  prisons  in  Great  Britain  have  been  happily  introduced, 
with  very  few  exceptions,  into  the  jails  and  penitentiaries 
of  the  United  States. 

But  in  order  to  a  more  general  and  happy  reformation 
of  criminals,  he  determined  to  visit  other  countries,  to 
see  the  plans  there  adopted,  in  hope  of  collecting  some 
information  which  might  be  useful  in  his  own  country. 
For  this  purpose  he  traveled  into  France,  Flanders,  Hol- 
land and  Germany.  He  also  visited  the  capital  of  Den- 
mark, Sweden,  Russia  and  Poland,  and  the  chief  cities 
in  Portugal  and  Spain.  In  all  these  expensive  and  ha- 
zardous journeys,  he  denied  himself  the  usual  gratification 
of  travelers,  and  declined  the  honors  which  were  offered 
him  by  persons  of  the  first  distinction,  applying  himself 
solely  to  his  own  grand  object.  To  him,  the  inspection 
of  a  jail  or  hospital,  was  more  interesting  than  all  the 
entertainments  of  a  palace.  With  what  astonishment  and 
gratitude  he  was  received  by  the  miserable  inhabitants, 
may  easily  be  imagined,  since  while  he  made  observations' 
on  their  situation,  he  meditated  their  relief;  and  many 
distressed  prisoners  abroad  as  well  as  at  home  partook 
of  his  bounty,  and  some  of  them  were  liberated  by  it;  for 
he  considered  all  of  every  nation  and  people  and  tongue 
as  brethren.  Nor  was  he  sparing  of  advice,  or  reproof, 
as  he  saw  occasion,  to  persons  of  rank  and  influence, 
whereby  the  miseries  of  their  countrymen  might  be  re- 
lieved. 

To  his  unparalleled  zeal  for  the  happines  of  others,  he 
at  last  fell  a  victim,  on  the  20th  of  January,  1790,  when 
he  died  of  the  plague  at  Cherson,  the  capital  of  the 
Crimea. 

This  advocate  for  the  distressed  of  mankind — this  am- 
bassador of  peace  and  compassion,  was  frequently  admit- 
ted to  an  audience  of  crowned  heads;  need  it  be  addded, 
that  the  glorious  task  he  was  engaged  in,  rendered  him 
greatly  their  superior. 


JOHN  HOWARD. 


49 


He  never  put  on  a  great  coat  in  the  coldest  countries, 
nor  had  been  a  minute  before  or  after  the  time  of  appoint- 
ment for  six  and  twenty  years.  He  never  continued  at  a 
place,  nor  with  a  person,  a  single  day  beyond  the  period 
fixed  for  going,  and  he  had  not  for  the  last  sixteen  years 
of  his  life,  ate  any  fish,  flesh  or  fowl,  but  sat  down  to  his 
simple  cup  of  tea,  milk  and  rusks.  His  journeys  were 
from  prison  to  prison — from  one  group  of  wretchedness 
to  another,  night  and  day,  and  where  lie  co.uld  not  go 
with  a  carriage,  he  would  ride;  if  that  was  hazardous, 
he  would  walk,  but  suffered  no  obstructions,  moral  or 
physical,  to  impede  the  progress  of  his  philanthropy. 

While  absent  on  his  first  tour  to  Turkey,  etc.,  his  char- 
acter for  active  benevolence  had  so  much  attracted  the 
public  attention,  that  a  subscription  was  set  on  foot  to 
erect  a  statue  to  his  honor — and  in  a  very  short  time  up- 
wards of  fifteen  hundred  guineas  were  subscribed  for  that 
purpose.  The  language  that  he  used  when  first  advised 
of  it  was,  4  *  Have  not  1  one  friend  in  England  who  would 
put  a  stop  to  such  a  proceeding."  At  last  in  consequence 
of  two  letters  from  Mr.  Howard  himself,  the  design  was 
abandoned.  It  has  however  been  resumed  since  his  death, 
and  surely  of  all  the  statues  or  monuments  ever  erected 
by  public  gratitude  to  illustrious  characters,  either  in 
ancient  or  modern  times,  none  was  ever  raised  in  honor 
of  worth  so  genuine  and  admirable  as  his,  who  devoted 
his  time,  his  strength,  his  fortune,  and  finally  sacrificed 
his  life  in  the  service  of  humanity. — Biographical  Dic- 
tionary. 

He  visited  all  Europe  [and  the  East,]  not  to  survey  the 
sumptuousness  of  palaces,  or  the  stateliness  of  temples; 
not  to  make  accurate  measurements  of  the  remains  of 
ancient  grandeur,  nor  to  form  a  scale  of  the  curiosities 
of  modern  art;  not  to  collect  medals,  or  to  collate  man- 
uscripts: but  to  dive  into  the  depth  of  dungeons ;  to  plunge 
into  the  infection  of  hospitals ;  to  survey  the  mansions  of 
sorrow  and  pain;  to  take  the  guage  and  dimensions  of 
misery,  oppression  and  contempt;  to  remember  the  for- 
gotten; to  ttend  to  the  neglected;  to  visit  the  forsaken; 
and  to  compare  and  collate  the  distresses  of  all  men  in  all 
countries.  His  plan  is  as  full  of  genius  as  it  is  of  human- 
6 


50 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


ity.  It  was  a  voyage  of  discovery,  a  circumnavigation 
of  charity;  and  already  the  benefit  of  his  labor  is  felt 
more  or  less  in  every  country. — Burke. 

Hail,  generous  Howard!  thou  dost  bear 

A  name  which  glory's  hand  sublime 

Has  bronzed  oft,  with  guardian  care, 

In  characters  that  fear  not  time; 

For  thee  she  fondly  spreads  her  wings, 

For  thee  from  Paradise  she  brings, 

More  verdant  than  her  laurel  bough, 

Such  wreaths  of  sacred  palm,  as  scarce  till  now, 

The  smiling  seraph  twined  around  a  mortal  brow, 

Thy  soul  supplies  new  funds  of  health 

That  fall  not  in  thy  trying  hour, 

Above  Arabia's  spicy  wealth, 

And  pharmacy's  reviving  power. 

The  transports  of  a  generous  mind, 

Feeling  its  bounty  to  mankind, 

In  spirit  every  mortal  part; 

And,  far  more  potent  than  precarious  art; 

Give  radiance  to  the  eye  and  vigor  to  the  heart. 

Nature!  on  thy  maternal  breast 

Forever  be  his  worth  engraved! 

Thy  bosom  only  can  attest 

How  many  a  life  his  toil  has  saved; 

Nor  in  thy  rescued  sons  alone, 

Great  Parent!  this  thy  guardian  own! 

His  arm  defends  a  dearer  slave; 

Woman,  thy  darling!  'tis  his  pride  to  save 

From  evils  that  surpass  the  horrors  of  the  grave. 

His  care,  exulting  Britain  found 

Here  first  displayed,  not  here  confined! 

No  single  tract  of  earth  could  bound 

The  active  virtues  of  his  mind. 

To  all  the  lands,  where'er  the  tear, 

That  mourned  the  prisoner's  wrongs  severe, 

Sad  pity's  glistening  cheek  impearled 


JOHN  HOWARD. 


Eager,  he  steered  with  every  sail  unfurled 

A  friend  to  every  clime!  a  patriot  of  the  world! 

Hayley. 

Howard!  I  view  thy  deeds  and  think  how  vain 
The  triumphs  of  weak  man — the  feeble  strain 
That  flattery  sings  to  conquest's  crimson  car, 
Amid  the  bannered  host  and  the  proud  tents  of  war 

From  realm  to  realm  the  hideous  War-fiend  hies 
Wide  o'er  the  wasted  earth — before  him  flies 
Affright,  on  pinions  fleeter  than  the  wind; 
And  death  and  desolation  fast  behind, 
The  havock  of  his  echoing  march  pursue. 
Meantime  his  steps  are  bathed  in  the  warm  dew 
Of  bloodshed  and  of  tears: — but  his  dread  name 
Shall  perish — the  loud  clarion  of  his  fame 
One  day  shall  cease,  and  wrapt  in  hideo 
Forgetfulness  sit  on  his  speechless  tomb! 

Oh  charity!  our  helpless  nature's  pride, 
Thou  friend  of  him,  who  knows  no  friend  beside, 
Is  ought  so  fair  beneath  the  heavens'  gleam, 
As  from  thine  eye  the  meek  and  pensive  beam. 
Thine  are  the  ample  views  that  unconfmed 
Stretch  to  the  utmost  walks  of  human  kind; 
Thine  is  the  spirit  that  with  widest  plan 
Brother  to  brother  binds,  and  man  to  man. 
Each  act  by  charity  and  mercy  done, 
High  o'er  the  wrecks  of  time,  shall  live  alone, 
Immortal  as  the  heavens,  and  beauteous  bloom 
To  other  worlds,  and  realms  beyond  the  tomb! 

Bowles. 

Patron  of  else  the  most  despised  of  men, 
Accept  the  tribute  of  a  stranger's  pen; 
Verse,  like  the  laurel,  its  immortal  meed, 
Should  be  the  guerdon  of  a  noble  deed: 
I  may  alarm  thee,  but  I  fear  the  shame 
I  must  incur,  forgetting  Howard's  name, 
When  charity's  my  chosen  theme  and  aim. 


52 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


„  were  m 

yi^Tiie  po( 


Blest  with  all  wealth  can  give  thee,  to  resign 
Joys  doubly  sweet  to  feelings  quick  as  thine. 
To  quit  the  bliss  thy  rural  scenes  bestow, 
To  seek  a  nobler  amid  scenes  of  woe; 
To  traverse  seas,  range  kingdoms,  and  bring  home 
Not  the  proud  monuments  of  Greece  or  Rome, 
But  knowledge  such  as  only  dungeons  teach, 
And  only  sympathy  like  thine  could  reach; 
That  grief  sequestered  from  the  public  stage, 
Might  smooth  her  feathers  and  enjoy  her  cage; 
Speaks  a  divine  ambition  and  a  zeal 
The  boldest  patriot  might  be  proud  to  feel. 
Oh!  that  the  voice  of  clamor  and  debate, 
That  pleads  for  peace  till  it  disturbs  the  state, 
Were  hushed  in  favor  of  thy  generous  plea, 
The  poor  thy  clients  and  heaven's  smile  thy  fee. 

Cowper. 


TRUTH. 


Sincerity  or  truth  is  the  basis  of  every  virtue..  That 
darkness  of  character  where  we  can  see  no  heart;  those 
foldings  of  art,  through  which  no  native  affection  is  al- 
lowed to  penetrate,  present  an  object  unamiable  in  every 
season  of  life,  but  particularly  odious  in  youth.  If,  at  an 
age  when  the  heart  is  warm,  when  the  emotions  are 
strong,  and  when  nature  is  expected  to  show  herself  free 
and  open,  you  can  already  smile  to  deceive,  what  are  we 
to  look  for  when  you  shall  be  longer  hackneyed  in  the 
ways  of  men ;  when  interest  shall  have  completed  the  ob- 
duration  of  your  heart,  and  experience  shall  have  im- 
proved you  in  all  the  arts  of  guile?  Dissimulation  in 
youth  is  the  forerunner  of  perfidy  in  old  age.  Its  first  ap- 
pearance is  the  fatal  omen  of  growing  depravity  and  future 
shame.  It  degrades  parts  and  learning,  obscures  the 
lustre  of  every  accomplishment,  and  sinks  you  into  con- 
tempt with  God  and  man.  As  you  value,  therefore,  the 
approbation  of  heaven,  or  the  esteem  of  the  world,  culti- 
vate the  love  of  truth.  In  all  your  proceedings,  be  direct 
and  consistent.    Ingenuity  and  candor  possess  the  most 


HUMANITY. 


53 


powerful  charm:  they  bespeak  universal  favor,  and  carry 
an  apology  for  almost  every  failing.  The  path  of  truth 
is  a  plain  and  safe  path;  that  of  falsehood  is  a  perplexing 
maze.  After  the  first  departure  from  sincerity,  it  is  not 
in  your  power  to  stop.  One  artifice  unavoidably  leads 
on  to  another:  till,  as  the  intricacy  of  the  labyrinth  in- 
creases, you  are  left  entangled  in  your  own  snare.  Deceit 
discovers  a  little  mind,  which  stops  at  temporary  expe- 
dients, without  rising  to  comprehensive  views  of  conduct. 
It  betrays  at  the  same  time,  a  dastardly  spirit.  It  is  the 
resource  of  one  who  wants  courage  to  avow  his  designs, 
or  to  rest  upon  himself.  Whereas  openness  of  character 
displays  that  generous  boldness  which  ought  to  distin- 
guish mankind.  To  set  out  in  the  world  with  no  other 
principle  than  a  crafty  attention  to  interest,  betokens  one 
who  is  destined  for  creeping  through  the  inferior  walks 
of  life;  but  to  give  an  ear]y  preference  to  honor,  above 
gain,  when  they  stand  in  competition;  to  despise  every 
advantage  which  can  not  be  attained  without  dishonest 
arts;  to  brook  no  meanness,  and  to  stoop  to  no  dissim- 
ulation; are  the  indications  of  a  great  mind,  the  presages 
of  future  eminence  and  distinction  in  life.  At  the  same 
time,  this  virtuous  sincerity  is  perfectly  consistent  with 
the  most  prudent  vigilance  and  caution.  It  is  opposed 
to  cunning,  not  to  true  wisdom.  It  is  not  the  simplicity 
of  a  weak  and  improvident,  but  the  candor  of  an  enlarged 
and  open  mind!  of  one  who  scorns  deceit,  because  he  ac- 
counts it  both  base  and  unprofitable;  and  who  seeks  no 
disguise,  because  he  needs  none  to  hide  him. 


HUMANITY. 

Youth  is  the  proper  season  for  cultivating  the  benevo- 
lent and  humane  affections.  As  a  great  part  of  your  hap- 
piness is  to  depend  on  the  connection  which  you  form 
with  others,  it  is  of  high  importance  that  you  acquire 
betimes  the  temper  and  the  manners  which  will  render 
such  connections  comfortable.  Let  a  sense  of  justice  be 
the  foundation  of  all  your  social  qualities.    In  your  most 


54 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


early  intercourse  with  the  world,  and  even  in  your  youth- 
ful amusements,  let  no  unfairness  be  found.  Engrave  on 
your  mind  that  sacred  rule,  of  4 'doing  in  all  things  to 
others  according  as  you  wish  that  they  should  do  unto 
you."  For  this  end,  impress  yourselves  with  a  deep  sense 
of  the  original  and  natural  equality  of  men.  Whatever 
advantages  of  birth  or  fortune  you  possess,  never  display 
them  with  an  ostentatious  superiority.  Leave  the  subor- 
dinations of  rank,  for  it  becomes  you  to  act  among  your 
companions  as  man  with  man.  Eemember  how  unknown 
you  are  to  the  vicissitudes  of  the  world;  and  how  often 
they,  on  whom  ignorant  and  contemptuous  young  men 
©nee  looked  down  with  scorn,  have  risen  to  be  their 
superiors  in  future  years.  Compassion  is  an  emotion  of 
which  you  ought  never  to  be  ashamed.  Graceful  in  youth 
is  the  tear  of  sympathy,  and  the  heart  that  melts  at  the 
tale  of  woe.  Let  not  ease  and  indulgence  contract  your 
affections,  and  wrap  you  up  in  selfish  enjoyment.  Accus- 
tom yourselves  to  think  of  the  distresses  of  human  life; 
of  the  solitary  cottage,  the  dying  parent,  and  the  weep- 
ing orphan.  Never  sport  with  pain  and  distress  in  any 
of  your  amusements,  nor  treat  even  the  meanest  insect 
with  wanton  cruelty. — [Humanity  confirmed  into  a  uni- 
form habit,  is  termed] 


GENTLENESS. 

Genuine  gentleness  is  to  be  carefully  distinguished 
from  the  mean  spirit  of  cowards  and  the  fawning  assent 
of  hypocrites.  It  renounces  no  just  right  from  fear;  it 
gives  up  no  important  truth  from  flattery.  It  is  indeed 
not  only  consistent  with  a  firm  mind,  but  it  necessarily 
requires  a  determined  spirit  and  a  fixed  principle  to  give 
it  its  true  support  and  value.  Its  office  is  extensive;  it 
is  not  like  some  other  virtues,  called  forth  only  on  pecu- 
liar emergencies;  but  is  continually  in  action  when  we 
are  engaged  in  intercourse  with  men.  It  ought  to  form 
our  address,  to  regulate  our  speech,  and  to  diffuse  itself 
over  our  whole  behavior.    In  order  to  carry  on  society, 


GENTLENESS. 


55 


it  has  been  found  necessary;  at  least  to  assume  its  ap- 
pearance. The  imitation  of  its  form  has  been  reduced 
into  an  art,  and,  in  the  commerce  of  life  the  first  study  of 
all  who  would  either  gain  the  esteem,  or  win  the  hearts 
of  others,  is  to  learn  the  speech  and  to  adopt  the  man- 
ners of  candor,  gentleness  and  humanity.  But  the  char- 
acteristic gentleness  of  a  good  man  is  seated  in  the  heart ; 
his  unaffected  civility  possesses  a  charm  more  power- 
ful than  the  studied  manners  of  the  most  finished  courtier. 

True  gentleness  is  founded  on  a  sense  of  what  we  owe 
to  Him  who  made  us,  and  to  the  common  nature  of 
which  we  all  share.  It  arises  from  reflection  on  our  own 
failings  and  wants;  and  from  just  views  of  the  condition 
and  the  duty  of  man.  It  is  native  feeling,  heightened 
and  improved  by  principle.  It  is  the  heart  which  easily 
relents;  which  feels  for  every  thing  that  is  human;  and 
is  backward  and  slow  to  inflict  the  least  wound.  It  is 
affable  in  its  address,  and  mild  in  its  demeanor;  ever 
ready  to  oblige,  and  ever  willing  to  be  obliged  by  others; 
breathing  habitual  kindness  towards  friends,  courtesy  to 
strangers,  justice  to  enemies.  It  exercises  authority 
with  moderation;  administers  reproof  with  tenderness; 
confers  favors  with  ease  and  modesty.  It  is  unas- 
suming in  opinion,  and  temperate  in  zeal.  It  contends 
not  eagerly  about  trifles;  slow  to  contradict,  and  still 
slower  to  blame;  but  prompt  to  allay  dissention,  and  to 
restore  peace.  It  neither  intermeddles  unnecessarily 
with  the  affairs,  nor  pries  inquisitively  into  the  secrets 
of  others.  It  delights  above  all  things  to  alleviate  dis- 
tress; and,  if  it  can  not  dry  up  the  falling  tear,  to  soothe 
at  least  the  grieving  heart.  Where  it  has  not  the  power 
of  being  useful,  it  is  never  burdensome.  It  seeks  to 
please,  rather  than  to  shine  and  dazzle;  and  conceals 
with  care  that  superiority,  either  of  talents,  or  of  rank, 
which  is  oppressive  to  those  who  are  beneath  it.  In  a 
word,  it  is  that  spirit  and  that  tenor  of  manners,  which 
the  gospel  of  Christ  enjoins,  when  it  commands  us, 
"to  bear  one  another's  burdens;  to  rejoice  with  those 
who  rejoice,  and  to  weep  with  those  who  weep;  to  please 
every  one  his  neighbor  for  his  good;  to  be  kind  and  ten- 


56 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


der-hearted;  to  be  pitiful  and  courteous;  to  support  the 
weak,  and  to  be  patient  with  all  men."— Blair. 


PEEVISHNESS. 

No  disease  of  the  mind  can  more  fatally  disable  it 
from  benevolence,  the  chief  duty  of  social  beings,  than 
ill  humor  or  peevishness;  for  though  it  breaks  not  out 
in  parox3rsms  of  outrage,  nor  bursts  into  clamor,  turbu- 
lence or  bloodshed;  it  wears  out  happiness  by  slow  cor- 
rosion and  small  injuries  incessantly  repeated.  It  may 
be  considered  the  canker  of  life,  that  destroys  its  vigor 
and  checks  its  improvements,  that  creeps  on  with  hourly 
depredations,  and  taints  and  vitiates  what  it  can  not 
consume.  Peevishness,  when  it  has  been  so  far  indulged 
as  to  out-run  the  motions  of  the  will,  and  discover 
itself  without  premeditation  [in  other  words,  habitual 
crossness],  is  a  species  of  depravity  in  the  highest  de- 
gree disgusting  and  offensive,  because  no  rectitude  of  in- 
tention nor  softness  of  address  can  escape  affront  or  in- 
dignity. It  is  not  easy  to  imagine  a  more  unhappy  con- 
dition than  that  of  dependence  on  a  peevish  person.  In 
many  states  of  inferiority,  the  certainty  of  pleasing  is 
perpetually  increased  by  a  fuller  knowledge  of  our  duty; 
but  by  this  troublesome  impatience,  our  endeavors  are 
frustrated  at  once,  and  all  our  assiduity  forgotten  in  the 
casual  tumult  of  some  trifling  irritation. 

Men  seldom  give  pleasnre  where  they  are  not  pleased 
themselves:  it  is  necessary,  therefore,  to  cultivate  an 
habitual  alacrity  and  cheerfulness,  in  whatever  state  we 
may  be  placed;  that  whether  we  are  appointed  to  confer 
or  receive  benefits,  to  implore  or  afford  protection,  we 
may  secure  the  love  of  those  with  whom  we  transact; 
for  though  usefulness  will  always  procure  friends,  yet 
without  attention  to  our  behavior,  officiousness  and 
liberality  may  be  so  adulterated,  as  to  lose  the  greater 
part  of  their  effect;  thus,  by  an  unfeeling  and  insulting 
manner,  compliance  may  provoke,  relief  may  harass, 
and  liberality  distress. 


RIGHTS  OF  ANIMALS. 


57 


Habitual  ill  humor  or  sour  temper  is  sometimes  the 
effect  of  anguish,  disease  and  trouble,  by  which  the  mind 
is  made  too  feeble  to  bear  the  lightest  addition  to  its 
miseries.  Nearly  approaching  to  this  weakness  is  the 
captiousness  of  old  age.  When  the  strength  is  crushed, 
the  senses  dulled,  and  life  become  insipid,  we  fancy  that 
we  suffer  by  neglect  and  unkindness,  we  charge  and  re- 
venge our  pains  on  others  and  drive  them  away,  when 
we  have  the  greatest  need  of  their  tenderness  and  assist- 
ance. But  though  peevishness  may  sometimes  claim  our 
compassion  as  the  concomitant  or  consequence  of  misery, 
it  is  very  often  found  where  nothing  can  justify  or  ex- 
cuse its  admission.  It  is  generally  the  vice  of  narrow 
minds;  the  offspring  of  idleness  anxious  for  trifles,  of 
pride  unwilling  to  endure  the  least  obstruction  to  her 
wishes,  or  of  the  wanton  tyranny  of  absolute  authority, 
which  being  accustomed  to  see  every  thing  give  way  to 
its  humor  is  blind  to  its  own  littleness. 

The  proper  remedy  is  to  consider  the  dignity  of  hu- 
man nature  and  the  folly  of  suffering  [and  wickedness  of 
giving]  perturbation  and  uneasiness  for  causes  unworthy 
of  notice.  That  it  is  every  one's  interest  to  be  pleased, 
can  need  little  proof,  that  it  is  equally  our  interest  to 
please  others,  experience  will  inform  us.  It  is  therefore 
not  less  necessary  to  happiness  than  to  virtue,  that  we 
rid  our  minds  of  passions,  which  enchain  our  intellects 
and  obstruct  our  improvement;  and  which  make  us  at 
once  uneasy  to  ourselves  and  hateful  to  the  world. — John- 
son. 


RIGHTS  OF  ANIMALS. 

The  heart  is  hard  in  nature,  and  unfit 

For  human  fellowship,  as  being  void 

Of  sympathy,  and  therefore  dead  alike 

To  love  and  friendship  both,  that  is  not  pleased 

With  sight  of  animals  enjoying  life, 

Nor  feels  their  happiness  augment  his  own. 

The  bounding  fawn,  that  darts  across  the  glade 


58 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


When  none  pursues,  through  mere  delight  of  heart, 

And  spirits  buoyant  with  excess  of  glee; 

The  horse  as  wanton,  and  almost  as  fleet, 

That  skims  the  spacious  meadow  at  full  speed, 

Then  stops,  and  snorts,  and  throwing  high  his  heels, 

Starts  to  the  voluntary  race  again; 

The  very  kine,  that  gambol  at  high  noon, 

The  total  herd  receiving  first  from  one 

That  leads  the  dance,  a  summons  to  be  gay, 

Though  wild  their  strange  vagaries,  and  uncoutk 

Their  efforts,  yet  resolved  with  one  consent, 

To  give  such  act  and  utterance  as  they  may 

To  ecstacy  too  big  to  be  suppressed*— 

These,  and  a  thousand  images  of  bliss, 

With  which  kind  nature  graces  every  scene, 

Where  cruel  man  defeats  not  her  design, 

Impart  to  the  benevolent,  who  wish 

All  that  are  capable  of  pleasure,  pleased, 

A  far  superior  happiness  to  theirs, 

The  comfort  of  a  reasonable  joy. 

Alas  !  the  persecution  and  the  pain 
That  man  inflicts  on  all  inferior  kinds, 
Regardless  of  their  plaints.    To  make  him  sport, 
To  gratify  the  frenzy  of  his  wrath, 
Or  his  base  gluttony,  are  causes  good 
And  just  in  his  account,  why  bird  and  beast 
Should  suffer  torture,  and  the  streams  be  dyed 
With  blood  of  their  inhabitants  impaled. 
Earth  groans  beneath  the  burden  of  a  war 
Waged  with  defenceless  innocence,  while  he, 
Not  satisfied  to  prey  on  all  around. 
Adds  tenfold  bitterness  of  death  by  pangs 
Needless,  and  first  torments  ere  he  devours. 
Now  happiest  they,  that  occupy  the  scenes 
The  most  remote  from  his  abhorred  resort, 
Whom  once,  as  delegate  of  God  on  earth, 
They  feared  and  as  his  perfect  image,  loved. 
The  wilderness  is  theirs,  with  all  its  caves, 
Its  hollow  glens,  its  thickets  and  its  plains, 
Unvisited  by  man.    There  they  are  free, 


RIGHTS  OP  ANIMALS. 


And  howl  and  roar  as  likes  them,  uncontrolled; 
Nor  ask  his  leave  to  slumber  or  to  play. 
In  measure,  as  by  force  of  instinct  drawn, 
Or  by  necessity  constrained,  they  live 
Dependent  upon  man;  those  in  his  fields, 
These  at  his  crib,  and  some  beneath  his  roof, 
They  prove  too  often  at  how  dear  a  rate 
He  sells  protection  —  witness  at  his  foot 
The  spaniel  dying  for  some  venial  fault 
Under  dissection  of  the  knotted  scourge; 
Witness  the  patient  ox,  with  stripes  and  yells 
Driven  to  the  slaughter,  goaded,  as  he  runs, 
To  madness:  while  the  savage  at  his  heels 
Laughs  at  the  frantic  sufferer's  fury,  spent 
Upon  the  guiltless  passenger  o'erthrown. 
He  too  is  witness,  noblest  of  the  train 
That  wait  on  man,  the  flight-performing  horse; 
With  unsuspecting  readiness  he  takes 
His  murderer  on  his  back,  and,  pushed  all  day 
With  bleeding  sides  and  flanks  that  heave  for  life, 
To  the  far  distant  goal  arrives  and  dies. 
So  little  mercy  shows  who  needs  so  much! 
Does  law,  so  jealous  in  the  cause  of  man, 
Denounce  no  doom  on  the  delinquent  ?  None. 
He  lives  and  o'er  his  brimming  beaker  boasts 
(As  if  barbarity  were  high  desert) 
Th'  inglorious  feat,  and  clamorous  in  praise 
Of  the  poor  brute,  seems  wisely  to  suppose 
The  honors  of  his  matchless  horse  his  own. 
But  many  a  crime,  deemed  innocent  on  earth, 
Is  registered  in  heaven;  and  these  no  doubt 
Have  each  their  record,  with  a  curse  annexed. 
Man  may  dismiss  compassion  from  his  heart, 
But  God  will  never.    When  he  charged  the  Jew 
T'  assist  his  foe*s  down-falling  beast  to  rise; 
And  when  the  bush-exploring  boy,  that  seized 
The  young,  to  let  the  parent  bird  go  free; 
Proved  Tie  not  plainly,  that  his  meaner  works 
Are  yet  his  care,  and  have  an  interest  all, 
All,  in  the  universal  Father's  love? 
On  Noah,  and  in  him  on  all  mankind, 


60 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


The  charter  was  conferred,  by  which  we  hold 
The  flesh  of  animals  in  fee,  and  claim 
O'er  all  we  feed  on  power  of  life  and  death. 
But  rend  the  instrument  and  mark  it  well: 
The  oppression  of  a  t}'rannous  control 
Can  find  no  warrant  there.    Feed  then,  and  yield 
Thanks  for  thy  food.    Carnivorous,  through  sin, 
Feed  on  the  slain,  but  spare  the  living  brute  ! 

I  would  not  enter  on  my  list  of  friends 

(Though  graced  with  polished  manners  and  fine  sense 

Yet  wanting  sensibility),  the  man, 

Who  needlessly  sets  foot  upon  a  worm. 

An  inadvertant  step  may  crush  the  snail 

That  crawls  at  evening  in  the  public  path; 

But  he  that  has  humanity,  forewarned, 

Will  tread  aside,  and  let  the  reptile  live. 

The  creeping  vermin,  loathsome  to  the  sight, 

And  charged  perhaps  with  venom,  that  intrudes, 

A  visitor  unwelcome,  into  scenes 

Sacred  to  neatness  and  repose,  the  aclove, 

The  chamber  or  refectory,  may  die: 

A  necessary  act  incurs  no  blame, 

Not  so  when,  held  within  their  proper  bounds, 

And  guiltless  of  offence,  they  range  the  air, 

Or  take  their  pastime  in  the  spacious  field: 

There  they  are  privileged;  and  he  that  hunts 

Or  harms  them  there  is  guilty  of  a  wrong, 

Disturbs  the  economy  of  Nature's  realm., 

Who,  when  she  formed,  designed  them  an  abode. 

The  sum  is  this.    If  man's  convenience,  health, 

Or  safety  interfere,  his  rights  and  claims 

Are  paramount,  and  must  extinguish  theirs. 

Else  they  are  all — the  meanest  things  that  are. 

Are  free  to  live,  and  to  enjoy  that  life, 

As  God  was  free  to  form  them  at  the  first, 

Who  in  his  sovereign  wisdom  made  them  all. 

Ye  therefore  who  love  mercy,  teach  your  sons 

To  love  it  too.    The  spring-time  of  our  years 

Is  soon  dishonored  and  defiled  in  most 

By  budding  ills,  that  ask  a  prudent  hand 


USE  AND  ABUSE  OF  ANIMALS. 


61 


To  check  them.    But,  alas  !  none  sooner  shoots, 
If  unrestrained,  into  luxuriant  growth, 
Than  cruelty,  most  dev'lish  of  them  all. 
Mercy  to  him  that  shows  it,  is  the  rule 
And  righteous  limitation  of  its  act, 
By  which  Heaven  moves  in  pard'ning  guilty  man; 
And  he  that  shows  none,  being  ripe  in  years, 
And  conscious  of  the  outrage  he  commits. 
Shall  seek  it,  and  not  find  it  in  his  turn. 

0  for  a  world  in  principle  as  chaste 
As  this  is  gross  and  selfish!  over  which 
Custom  and  prejudice  shall  bear  no  sway, 
That  govern  all  things  here,  shouldering  aside 
The  meek  and  modest  truth,  and  forcing  her, 
To  seek  a  refuge  from  the  tongue  of  strife, 
In  nooks  obsure.  far  from  the  ways  of  men: 
Where  violence  shall  never  lift  the  sword, 
Nor  cunning  justify  the  proud  man's  wrong, 
Leaving  the  poor  no  remedy  but  tears: 
Where  he  that  fills  an  office,  shall  esteem 
The  occasion  it  presents  of  doing  good, 
More  than  the  perquisite:  where  law  shall  speak 
Seldom,  and  never  but  as  wisdom  prompts 
And  equity;  not  jealous  more  to  guard 
A  worthless  form,  than  to  decide  aright: 
Where  fashion  shall  not  sanctify  abuse, 
Nor  smooth  good  breeding  (supplemental  grace) 
With  lean  performance,  ape  the  world  of  love  ! 

Cowper* 


USE  AND  ABUSE  OF  ANIMALS. 

There  would  be  a  sort  of  selfishness  in  confining  the 
divine  goodness  and  wisdom  to  the  preservation  of  man- 
kind alone,  without  remembering  the  care  that  Providence 
takes  of  animals  also.  A  care  which  he  extends  to  crea- 
tures much  greater  in  number  on  the  earth,  than  the  ra- 
tional beings  who  inhabit  it.  However  wonderful  the 
preservation  of  human  creatures  may  be,  we  can  say. 


62 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


with  truth,  that  the  cares  of  Providence  towards  animals 
are  still  more  astonishing  proofs  of  the  wisdom,  power, 
and  goodness  of  God. 

That  the  prodigious  uumber  of  animals  which  our  globe 
contains,  should  find  food  or  habitation  in  summer,  is  not 
surprising,  because  all  nature  then  is  disposed  to  concur 
towards  that  end.  But  that  in  winter,  the  same  number 
of  creatures,  those  millions  of  quadrupeds,  of  reptiles,  of 
birds,  of  insects,  and  fishes,  should  continue  to  exist,  is 
a  circumstance  which  must  excite  the  astonishment  of 
every  one  capable  of  reflection.  Nature  has  provided 
most  animals  with  a  covering,  by  means  of  which  they 
can  bear  the  cold,  and  procure  themselves  food  in  winter, 
as  well  as  in  summer.  The  bodies. of  wild  beasts  which 
inhabit  forests  and  deserts,  are  so  formed,  that  their  hair 
falls  off  in  summer,  and  grows  again  in  winter,  till  it 
becomes  a  fur  which  enables  the  animal  to  endure  the 
most  severe  cold.  Other  kinds  of  animals  find  an  asylum 
under  the  bark  of  trees,  in  old  crevices,  in  hollows  of 
rocks  and  caves,  when  the  cold  obliges  them  to  quit  their 
summer  dwelling. 

It  is  there  that  some  carry,  before  hand,  the  food  which 
is  to  serve  them,  and  thus  live  on  what  they  have  gath- 
ered in  the  summer;  others  pass  the  winter  in  profound 
sleep.  Nature  has  given  to  several  sorts  of  birds  an 
instinct,  which  prompts  them  to  change  place  at  the  ap- 
proach of  winter.  They  are  seen  flying  in  great  numbers 
into  warmer  climates.  Several  animals,  who  are  not 
designed  to  travel,  find,  notwithstanding,  their  wants 
supplied  in  this  season.  Birds  know  how  to  find  out 
insects  in  moss,  and  in  the  crevices  of  the  bark  of  trees. 
Several  kinds  of  quadrupeds  carry  provision  in  the  sum- 
mer time  into  caves,  and  feed  on  it  in  winter.  Others 
are  obliged  to  seek  their  subsistence  under  the  snow  and 
ice.  Several  sorts  of  insects  in  winter,  confined  to  marshes, 
and  frozen  rivers,  are  deprived  of  food  for  that  time,  and 
still  preserve  life.  Perhaps,  also,  many  means,  made  use 
of  by  Providence  for  the  preservation  of  animals,  are  yet 
concealed  from  us. 

From  the  elephant  to  the  mite,  all  animals  owe  o  him 
their  dwelling,  their  food,  and  their  life;  and,  even  where 


USE  AND  ABUSE   OF  ANIMALS. 


63 


nature  herself  seems  barren  of  resources,  he  finds  means 
to  make  amends  for  her  poverty. 

Let  these  reflections  lead  us  to  imitate,  as  much  as  our 
faculties  will  permit,  the  generous  care  of  divine  Provi- 
dence, in  contributing  to  the  preservation  and  happiness 
of  our  fellow  creatures,  and  even  to  the  welfare  of  every 
living  animal.  To  be  cruel  towards  animals,  to  refuse 
them  food,  and  indispensable  conveniences,  is  to  act  mani- 
festly contrary  to  the  will  of  our  common  Creator,  whose 
beneficent  cares  extend  even  to  those  beings  which  are 
inferior  to  us.  And,  if  animals  have  a  real  right  to  our 
attention,  how  much  more  are  we  obliged  to  soften,  as 
well  as  we  can,  the  evils  of  our  fellow  creatures?  Let  it 
not  be  sufficient  for  us  to  supply  our  own  wants,  but  let 
us  endeavor  to  supply  those  of  others;  and  never  suffer 
any  one  to  sink  under  misery,  whom  it  is  in  our  power 
to  relieve. 

So  improper  an  use  is  made  of  animals,  and  in  so  many 
ways,  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  enumerate  them.  These 
abuses  however,  may  be  confined  to  two  chief  points; 
that  of  too  much,  or  too  little  value  being  set  on  them; 
and,  in  either  case,  we  act  contrary  to  the  intention  of 
the  Creator.  On  one  hand,  we  lower  the  brutes  too 
much,  when,  under  the  pretence  of  being  permitted  the 
use  of  them  by  God,  we  assume  an  unlimited  power  over 
them,  and  think  we  have  a  right  to  treat  them  according 
to  our  caprice.  But  how  can  we  prove  that  we  have  that 
right?  And  suppose  even  that  we  had,  would  it  be  just 
that  our  power  should  degenerate  into  cruelty  and 
tyranny?  All  who  are  not  corrupted  by  passions,  or  bad 
habits,  are  naturally  inclined  to  compassion  towards 
every  being  that  has  life  and  feeling.  This  disposition 
undoubtedly  does  honor  to  man,  and  is  so  deeply  engraved 
on  our  minds,  that  one,  who  had  rooted  it  out,  would 
prove  to  what  a  degree  he  was  degraded  and  fallen  from 
the  dignity  of  his  nature.  He  would  have  but  one  step 
more  to  make  (to  refuse  to  man  the  compassion  he  does 
not  grant  to  beasts),  and  he  would  theti  be  a  monster. 
Experience  but  too  well  justifies  this  remark,  and  many 
examples  of  it  may  be  recollected.  History  furnishes  us 
with^heim    We  see  by  it,  that  nations,  where  the  people 


64 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


took  pleasure  in  bull-baiting  distinguished  themselves  in 
cruelty  towards  their  fellow  creatures.  So  true  it  is,  that 
our  treatment  of  beasts  has  an  influence  on  our  moral 
characters,  and  on  the  gentleness  of  manners.  It  maybe 
said,  that  we  have  a  right  to  destroy  hurtful  animals. 
But  does  it  follow  from  thence,  that  we  are  authorized  to 
take  from  them,  without  pity  or  regret,  a  life  which  is 
so  dear  to  every  creature .  and  that,  when  necessity  forces 
us  to  it,  we  should  find  a  barbarous  pleasure  in  it,  or 
think  we  have  a  right,  in  thus  depriving  them  of  life,  to 
make  them  suffer  torments,  often  more  cruel  than  death 
itself  ?  Grant  that  the  Creator  has  given  us  the  animals 
for  our  use  and  pleasure,  and  .that  they  are  designed,  by 
their  labor,  to  spare  ours.  But  does  it  follow  that  we 
must  unnecessarily  fatigue  them,  exhaust  them  with  labor 
beyond  their  strength,  refuse  them  sustenance  merited  by 
their  services ;  in  fine,  aggravate  their  sufferings  by  severe 
treatment  ? 

Men  fall  sometimes  into  the  other  extreme,  by  setting 
too  high  a  value  on  animals.  Those  of  a  social  character, 
which  are  more  connected  with  us,  which  live  in  our 
houses,  which  amuse,  or  are  useful  to  us,  inspire  us 
sometimes  with  an  extravagant  and  ridiculous  affection. 
I  am  almost  ashamed  to  say,  there  are  men  and  women 
extravagant  enough  to  love  those  creatures  to  such  a 
degree,  as  to  sacrifice  to  them,  without  scruple,  the 
•essential  duties  they  owe  to  their  fellow  creatures.  Let 
war  be  kindled  between  nations,  let  armies  destroy  one 
another;  the  news  wTill  not  make  ihe  least  impression  on 
a  lady,  who  some  days  before  was  inconsolable  for  the 
loss  of  her  spaniel. 

I  add  a  very  important  remark.  Parents,  and  all  who 
have  the  charge  of  children's  education,  or  who  live  with 
them,  can  not  be  too  attentive  to  avoid  scrupulously  them- 
selves any  abuse  of  animals.  It  is  the  more  necessary  to 
dwell  on  this  maxim,  because,  in  general,  it  is  much  neg- 
lected; and  very  bad  examples  of  this  kind  are  given  to 
children,  which  has  sometimes  influence  upon  their  whole 
education.  Let  them  be  taught  to  treat  animals,  as  beings 
which  have  life  and  feeling  and  towards  whom  we  have 
duties  to  fulfill. 


USE  AND   ABUSE  OF  ANIMALS. 


65 


However  real  the  inconveniences  caused  by  animals 
may  be,  they  do  not  authorize  such  bitter  complaints  as 
we  allow  ourselves  to  make;  complaints  in  which  self 
love  has  too  great  a  part.  We  are  pleased  to  observe  that 
the  creatures  hurtful  to  us  destroy  one  another.  We  think 
we  have  a  right  to  take  away  the  lives  of  animals,  either 
for  our  food,  or  for  any  other  purpose;  but  can  not  bear 
that  they  should  take  any  thing  from  us.  We  expect 
that  they  should  serve  for  our  subsistence,  and  will  give 
up  nothing  to  them.  In  reality,  however,  have  we  more 
right  over  the  life  of  a  gnat,  than  it  has  to  a  drop  of  our 
blood?  Besides,  in  complaining  of  the  voracity  of  animals, 
we  do  not  consider  that  this  plan  of  nature  is  not  so  dis- 
advantageous as  it  appears.  In  order  to  be  convinced  of 
this,  we  have  only  to  consider  the  animal  kingdom  in 
the  whole.  Such  a  species,  which  appears  noxious,  is, 
however,  of  real  use;  and  it  would  be  very  dangerous  to 
attempt  to  destroy  the  race  of  them?  A  few  years  ago, 
some  inhabitants  of  the  English  colonies  in  America  en- 
deavored to  extirpate  the  jays,  or  jackdaws,  because  they 
fane  ied  that  these  birds  did  much  mischief  to  the  corn;  but 
in  proportion  as  the  number  of  jjys  diminished,  the  people 
were  struck  with  the  havoc  made  by  an  enormous  May- 
bug.  They  soon  ceased  to  persecute  the  jays;  and  as  soon 
as  those  multiplied  again,  they  put  an  end  to  this  plague 
which  had  been  the  consequence  of  their  destruction. 
Some  time  ago  a  project  was  formed  in  Sweden  to  destroy 
the  crows;  but  they  were  observed  in  time  not  only  to 
fix  on  corn  and  plants,  but  also  that  they  devoured  the 
worms  and  catterpillars,  which  destroy  the  leaves  or  roots 
of  vegetables,  in  North  America  they  pursued  the  spar- 
row violently;  but  it  happened  from  thence  that  the  gnats 
increased  to  such  a  degree  in  the  marshy  countries,  that 
they  were  obliged  to  leave  a  great  deal  of  land  unculti- 
vated. Pheasant  hunting  is  so  considerable  in  the  isle  of 
Porcido,  that  it  occasioned  the  king  of  Naples  to  forbid 
the  use  of  cats  to  the  inhabitants.  At  the  end  of  a  few 
years  the  rats  and  mice  increased  so  much,  and  did  such 
mischief,  that  this  order  was  abolished.  And  why  should 
we  he  so  selfish  as  to  envy  creatures  the  small  part  of  our 
prowions  which  they  require  for  food!    Shall  we  want 


66 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


any  thing  for  our  support  or  pleasure,  because  the  birds, 
the  mice,  and  the  insects,  help  us  to  make  use  of  the 
blessings  which  God  grants  in  such  profusion,  and  part 
of  which  would  be  wasted  were  not  the  animals  to  feed 
on  it.  Instead  of  giving  way  to  unjust  complaints,  let  us 
rather  in  this  acknowledge  the  wisdom  of  our  Creator. 
Every  thing  in  nature  is  connected  together,  and  it  is 
unpardonable  in  us,  to  abuse  our  delegated  power  over 
the  other  creatures,  by  treating  them  ill. 

Hunting  is  one  of  the  chief  amusements  of  a  certain 
order  of  people;  but  it  is  to  be  wished  they  did  not  set 
such  value  upon  it;  for  the  power  man  has  over  animals, 
and  the  pleasure  he  takes  in  subduing  them,  is  too  often 
mingled  with  cruelty.  Sometimes,  it  is  true,  there  is  a 
necessity  that  animals  should  be  put  to  death;  in  order  to 
make  the  use  of  them  for  which  they  were  designed,  or  to 
prevent  an  increase  that  would  be  hurtful  to  us.  But, 
even  then,  their  death  ought  to  be  made  as  easy  as  possi- 
ble; and  unfortunately  this  law  prescribed  by  nature  is 
little  attended  to  by  sportsmen.  Men,  in  this  respect, 
show  themselves  more  cruel  tyrants  than  the  fiercest 
beasts.  Is  hot  the  way  of  hunting  a  hare  or  stag  dreadful 
to  every  feeling  heart?  Can  it  be  an  innocent  pleasure 
to  pursue  with  rage  and  fury  a  poor  animal,  which  flies 
from  us  in  violent  anguish,  till  at  last,  exhausted  with 
terror  and  fatigue,  it  falls  and  expires  with  horrid  con- 
vulsions? Is  it  in  humanity  not  to  be  affected  with  such 
a  sight,  nor  to  feel  compassion  at  it?  To  purchase  a 
pleasure  by  the  death  of  an  innocent  creature,  is  purchas- 
ing it  to3  dearly.  It  is  a  dangerous  pleasure,  if  it  makes 
barbarity  familiar  to  us.  It  is  impossible  that  the  heart 
of  a  man,  passionately  fond  of  hunting,  should  not  insensi- 
bly lose  the  sweet  feeling  of  humanity.  Such  a  man  soon 
becomes  cruel  and  barbarous ;  he  finds  pleasure  in  none 
but  scenes  of  horror  and  destruction;  and,  having  accus- 
tomed himself  to  be  insensible  towards  animals,  he  soon 
becomes  so  towards  his  fellow  creatures.  Hunting  does 
not  appear  to  me  in  general  an  occupation  which  we  can 
reconcile  with  the  duties  we  are  called  upon  to  fulfill. 
Without  mentioning  the  loss  of  time,  a  loss  in  itself  of 
consequence,  it  is  certain,  that  hunting  dissipa^i  too 


USE  AND  ABUSE  TO  ANIMALS. 


67 


much,  and  fills  the  mind  with  ideas  incompatible  with 
serious  employments.  Gentler  amusements  are  more 
proper  to  unbend  and  divert  the  mind,  than  those  tumul- 
tuous pleasures  which  do  not  leave  us  the  use  of  reflection. 
Hunting  must  even  appear  a  dangerous  employment  to  a 
moral  and  religious  man;  for  ought  we  not  to  be  afraid 
of  a  pleasure  which  leads  us  to  sin  and  irregularities? 
How  does  the  health  suffer  by  such  a  violent  excesses, 
and  sudden  transitions  from  heat  to  cold!  What  exercises, 
what  swearing,  what  cruelties  are  allowed!  How  are 
the  horses,  dogs,  and  even  the  men  treated!  What  mis- 
chief done  to  the  meadows  and  fields!  Can  all  these  be 
called  trifles  not  worth  attending  to?  If  we  were  wise, 
we  should  seek  pleasures  more  innocent  and  pure,  and 
we  should  certainly  find  them.  We  have  only  to  look 
around  us,  and  we  may  every  where  discover  pleasing 
objects,  such  as  might  afford  us  the  sweetest  enjoyments. 
The  sky,  the  earth,  the  arts  and  sciences,  our  senses,  the 
intercourse  of  friends;  in  a  word,  almost  every  thing 
around  us,  invites  us  to  happy  employments.  Why  then 
should  we  run  after  gross  pleasures,  which  always  leave 
remorse  and  disgust  behind  them  ?  We  have  within  our- 
selves an  abundant  source  of  enjoyments, — a  number  of 
intellectual  and  moral  faculties,  the  culture  of  which  may 
every  moment  afford  the  greatest  satisfaction.  But  it  is 
in  this  that  the  great  knowledge  of  a  Christian  philosopher 
consists:  He  has  the  art  of  being  happy  without  much 
preparation  or  trouble,  and  particularly  without  being  so 
at  the  expense  of  his  virtue. — Reflections  from  the  German 
of  Sturm. 


CONSCIENCE. 

A  good  conscience  is  the  testimony  of  a  good  life,  and 
the  reward  of  it."  This  is  it  that  fortifies  the  mind 
against  fortune,  when  a  man  has  gotten  the  mastery  of 
passions:  placed  his  treasure  and  security  within  himself; 
and  learned  to  be  content  with  his  condition.  He  that 
has  d^Rcated  his  mind  to  virtue,  and  to  the  good  of 


63 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


human  society,  whereof  he  is  a  member,  has  consummated 
the  establishment  of  his  peace.  Every  man  has  a  judge 
and  a  witness  within  himself,  of  all  the  good  and  ill  that 
he  does,  which  inspires  us  with  great  thoughts,  and  ad- 
ministers to  us  wholesome  counsels.  To  see  a  man  fear- 
less in  dangers,  happy  in  adversity,  composed  in  a  tumult, 
and  laughing  at  all  those  things  which  are  generally  either 
coveted  or  feared;  all  men  must  acknowledge  that  this 
can  be  nothing  else  but  a  beam  of  divinity  that  influences 
a  mortal  body.  A  great,  a  good,  and  a  right  mind,  is  a 
kind  of  divinity  lodged  in  flesh,  and  may  be  the  blessing 
of  a  peasant  as  well  as  of  a  prince. 

A  good  conscience  fears  no  witness,  but  a  guilty  con- 
science is  solicitous  even  in  solitude.  If  we  do  nothing 
but  what  is  honest,  let  all  the  world  know  it;  but  if 
otherwise,  what  does  it  signify  to  have  nobody  else  know 
it,  so  long  as  I  know  it  myself?  Miserable  is  he  that 
slights  that  witness!  Wickedness  it  is  true  may  escape 
the  law,  but  not  the  conscience:  for  a  private  conviction 
is  the  first  and  greatest  punishment  of  offenders :  so  that 
sin  plagues  itself ;  and  the  fear  of  vengeance  pursues  even 
those  that  escape  the  stroke  of  it.  It  were  ill  for  good 
men  that  iniquity  may  so  easily  evade  the  law,  the  judge, 
and  the  execution,  if  nature  had  not  set  up  torments  and 
gibbets  in  the  consciences  of  transgressors.  He  that  is 
guilty  lives  in  perpetual  terror;  and  while  he  expects  to 
be  punished  he  punishes  himself;  and  whosoever  deserves 
it  expects  it.  What  if  he  be  not  detected?  he  is  still  in 
apprehension  yet  that  he  may  be.  His  sleeps  are  painful, 
and  never  secure;  and  he  can  not  speak  of  another  man's 
wickedness  without  thinking  of  his  own;  whereas  a  good 
conscience  is  a  continual  feast. 

A  good  man  can  never  be  entirely  miserable,  nor  a 
wicked  man  happy.  There  is  not  in  the  scale  of  nature, 
a  more  inseparable  connection  of  cause  and  effect,  than  in 
the  case  of  happiness  and  virtue;  nor  any  thing  that  more 
naturally  produces  the  one,  or  more  necessarily  presup- 
poses the  other.  For  what  is  it  to  be  happy,  but  for  a 
man  to  content  himself  with  his  lot,  in  a  cheerful  and 
quiet  resignation  to  the  appointment  of  God  ?  All  the 
actions  of  our  lives  ought  to  be  governed  with  ^spect  to 


CONSCIENCE. 


09 


good  and  evil;  and  it  is  only  reason  that  distinguishes. 
It  is  every  man's  duty  to  make  himself  profitable  to  man- 
kind: if  he  can,  to  many;  if  not,  to  fewer;  if  not  to 
cither,  to  his  neighbor;  but,  at  all  events,  to  himself. 

Now,  to  show  how  much  more  earnest  my  entrance 
upon  philosophy  was  than  my  progress,  my  tutor  Sotion 
gave  me  a  wonderful  affection  for  Pythagoras,  and  after 
him  for  Sextius:  the  former  forbore  shedding  blood  upon 
his  metempsychosis ;  and  put  men  in  fear  of  it,  lest  they 
should  offer  violence  to  the  souls  of  some  of  their  departed 
friends  or  relations.  "Whether,"  says  he,  "there  be  a 
transmigration  or  not,  if  it  be  true  there  is  no  hurt  in  it; 
if  false,  there  is  frugality;  and  nothing  is  gotten  by  cru- 
elty neither,  but  the  cozening  a  wolf,  perhaps,  or  a  vul- 
ture,- of  a  supper. 

Now,  Sextius  abstained  upon  another  account,  which 
was,  that  he  would  not  have  men  inured  to  hardness  of 
heart  by  the  laceration  and  tormenting  of  living  creatures ; 
beside,  that  nature  had  sufficiently  provided  for  the  sus- 
tenance of  mankind  without  blood.  This  wrought  so  far 
upon  me  that  I  gave  over  eating  of  flesh,  and  in  one  year 
I  made  it  not  only  easy  to  me,  but  pleasant;  my  mind, 
methought,  was  more  at  liberty  (and  I  am  still  of  the 
same  opinion),  but  I  gave  it  over  nevertheless;  and  the 
reason  was  this:  The  forbearance  of  some  sorts  of  flesh, 
was  imputed  as  a  superstition  to  a  foreign  nation,  and  my 
father  brought  me  back  again  to  my  old  custom,  that  I 
might  not  be  thought  tainted  with  their  superstition. 
Nay,  and  I  had  much  ado  to  prevail  upon  myself  to  suffer 
it  too.  I  make  use  of  this  instance  to  show  the  aptness 
of  youth  to  take  good  impressions,  if  there  be  a  friend  at 
hand  to  press  them. — Seneca. — Torrey's  Moral  Instructor. 


If  thou  hast  done  an  injury  to  another,  rather 'own  it 
than  defend  it.  One  way  thou  gainest  forgiveness;  the 
other  thou  doublest  the  wrong  and  reckoning.  Some  op- 
pose honor  to  submission;  but  it  can  be  no  honor  to 
maintain  what  it  is  dishonorable  to  do.  True  honor  will 
pay  treble  damages,  rather  than  justify  one  wrong  by 


70 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


another.  Never  esteem  any  man,  or  thyself,  the  more  for 
money:  nor  think  the  meaner  of  thyself,  or  another,  for 
want  of  it;  virtue  being  the  just  reason  for  respecting, 
and  the  want  of  it  of  slighting  any  one.  A  man,  like  a 
watch,  is  to  be  valued  for  his  doings. 

A  meek  man  is  not  easily  provoked,  yet  easily  grieved; 
not  peevish  or  testy,  but  soft,  gentle,  and  inoffensive. 
0  blessed  will  you  be,  if  this  grace  adorns  you.  Patience 
is  an  effect  of  a  meek  spirit,  and  flows  from  it:  it  is  a 
bearing  and  suffering  disposition;  not  choleric  or  soon 
moved  to  wrath,  or  vindictive;  but  ready  to  hear  and 
endure  too,  rather  than  he  swift  and  hasty  in  judgment 
or  action.  Show  mercy  whenever  it  is  in  your  power; 
that  is,  forgive,  pity,  and  help,  for  so  it  signifies.  But 
the  merciful  man's  mercy  reaches  farther,  even  to  his 
beast;  then  surely  to  man,  his  fellow  creature,  he  shall 
not  want  it.  -Wherefore  I  charge  you,  oppress  nobody, 
man  nor  beast. 

Take  no  advantage  upon  the  unhappy,  pity  the  afflicted, 
make  the  case  your  own,  and  that  of  their  wives  and 
poor  innocent  children  the  condition  of  yours,  and  you 
can  not  want  sympathy,  forgiveness,  nor  a  disposition  to 
help  and  succor  them  to  your  ability.  Charity  is  a  near 
neighbor  to  mercy;  it  is  generally  taken  to  consist  in 
this,  not  to  be  censorious,  and  to  relieve  the  poor.  Be 
clear  yourselves  before  you  fling  the  stone.  Get  the  beam 
out  of  your  own  eye;  it  is  humbling  doctrine  but  safe. 
Integrity  is  a  great  and  commendable  virtue.  A  man. of 
integrity,  is  a  true  man,  a  bold  man,  and  a  steady  man; 
he  is  to  be  trusted  and  relied  upon.  No  bribes  can  cor- 
rupt him,  no  fear  daunt  him:  his  words  are  slow  in  com- 
ing, but  sure.  He  runs  with  truth,  and  not  with  the 
times. — Penn. 


(71) 


HUMANITY  OF  SENTIMENT. 

We  are  generally  unhappy  instead  of  being  delighted 
with  the  song  of  a  bird  in  the  cage.  It  is  somewhat  like 
the  smile  of  grief,  which  is  much  more  dreadful  than 
tears,  or  like  the  playfulness  of  an  infant  amid  scenes  of 
sorrow.  It  is  difficult  therefore  to  say  whether  in  this 
cruel  practice  there  is  a  greater  want  of  taste  or  of  human- 
ity and  there  should  in  fact  be  no  excuse  for  it,  if  there 
were  not  a  kind  of  tenderness  excited  towards  them,  from 
the  reflection  that  they  are  altogether  dependent  upon  our 
benevolence,  and  a  very  natural  gratitude  awakened  by 
the  exertions  they  make  for  our  pleasure. 

It  is  of  much  consequence  in  the  education  of  the  young, 
to  encourage  their  instinctive  taste  for  the  beauty  and 
sublimity  of  nature.    While  it  opens  to  the  years  of  in- 
fancy or  youth,  a  source  of  pure  and  of  permanent  enjoy- 
ment, it  has  consequences  on  the  character  and  happiness 
"uture  life,  which  they  are  unable  to  foresee.    It  is  to 
ride  them  amid  all  the  agitations  and  trials  of  society, 
one  gentle  and  unreproaching  friend  [a  clear  con- 
ice],  whose  voice  is  ever  in  alliance  with  goodness 
virtue,  and  which  when  once  understood  is  able  both 
Doth  misfortune,  and  to  reclaim  from  folly.    It  is  to 
itify  them  with  the  happiness  of  that  nature  to  which 
y  belong;  to  give  them  an  interest  in  every  species  of 
ng  which  surrounds  them;  and  amid  the  hours  of 
riosity  and  delight,  to  awake  those  latent  feelings  of 
nevolence  and  sympathy  from  which  all  the  moral  or 
itellectual  greatness  of  man  finally  arises. 

Alison  on  Taste. 

Virtue  is  amiable,  just,  serene, 
Without,  all  beauty r and  all  peace  within — 
Be  good  yourself,  not  think  another's  shame 
Can  raise  your  merit,  or  adorn  your  fame; 
Nor  take  in  sport,  the  life  you  can  not  give. 
For  all  things  have  an  equal  right  to  live. 


(72) 


MORAL  SENTIMENT  AND  HAPPINESS. 

The  rule  by  which  men  commonly  judge  of  external 
actions,  is  taken  from  the  supposed  influence  of  such  ac- 
tions on  the  general  good.  To  abstain  from  harm,  is  the 
great  law  of  natural  justice;  to  diffuse  happiness  is  the 
law  of  morality;  and  when  we  censure  the  conferring  a 
favor  on  one  or  a  few  at  the  expense  of  many,  we  refer 
to  public  utility,  as  the  great  object  at  which  the  actions 
of  men  should  be  aimed. 

Although  a  principle  of  affection  to  mankind,  be  the 
basis  of  our  moral  approbation  and  dislike,  we  sometimes 
proceed  in  distributing  applause  or  censure,  without  pre- 
cisely attending  to  the  degree  in  which  our  fellow  crea- 
tures are  hurt  or  obliged;  and,  besides  the  virtues  of 
candor,  friendship,  generosity,  and  public  spirit,  which 
bear  an  immediate  reference  to  this  principle,  there  are 
others  which  may  seem  to  derive  their  commendation 
from  a  different  source.  Temperance,  prudence  and  for- 
titude— are  those  qualities  likewise  admired  from  a  prin- 
ciple of  regard  to  our  fellow  creatures  ?  Why  not,  since 
the}r  render  men  happy  in  themselves,  and  useful  to  others? 
He  who  is  qualified  to  promote  the  welfare  of  mankind, 
is  neither  a  sot,  a  fool  nor  a  coward.  Can  it  be  more 
clearly  expressed,  that  temperance,  prudence,  and  forti- 
tude, are  necessary  to  the  character  we  love  and  admire? 
I  knowr  well  why  I  should  wish  for  them  in  myself;  and 
why  likewise  I  should  wish  them  for  my  friend,  and  in 
every  person  who  is  an  object  of  my  affection.  But  to 
what  purpose  seek  for  reasons  of  approbation,  where 
qualities  are  so  necessary  to  our  happiness,  and  so  great 
a  part  in  the  perfection  of  our  nature  ?  We  must  cease 
to  esteem  ourselves,  and  to  distinguish  what  is  excellent 
when  such  qualifications  incur  our  neglect. 

A  person  of  an  affectionate  mind,  possessed  of  the 
maxim,  ''That  he  himself,  as  an  individual,  is  no  more 
than  a  part  of  the  whole  that  demands  his  regard ,"  has 
found,  in  that  principle,  a  sufficient  foundation  for  all  the 
virtues;  for  a  contempt  of  animal  pleasures,  when  they 


MORAL  SENTIMENT  ATD  HAPPINESS.  73 

would  supplant  his  principal  enjoyment;  for  an  equal  con 
tempt  of  danger  or  pain,  that  comes  to  stop  his  pursues 
If!0  \°°d;  "A  vehement  and  steady  affectioTmal? 
nines  its  object,  and  lessens  every  difficulty  or  danger  that 
stands  m  the  way  "  «  Ask  those  who  have  been  in 
truTh."    JS  EpiCtetus'  "thev  ^  W  that  I  speak 

i^lLhaV(;-bef0rl-TCsays  an  eminent  moralist,  "  an 
idea  of  justice,  which  if  I  could  follow  in  every  ins  ance 
I  should  think  myself  the  most  happy  of  men/'  Hit 
is  perhaps,  of  consequence  to  their  happiness,  as  we 
as  to  their  conduct  (if  these  two  can  be  disjoined)  that 
men  should  have  this  idea  properly  formed    it  is  Zl 
haps  but  another  name  for  thJt  goodVf  mankind,  S 
the  Virtuous  are  engaged  to  promote.    Virtue  being  the 
supreme  good,  its  best  and  most  signal  effect  is  to  fom 
municate  and  diffuse  itself.  S  COm* 

To  love  and  even  to  hate,  on  the  apprehension  of 
moral  qualities,  to  espouse  one  party  from  a  sense  of 
justice,  to  oppose  another  with  indignation  excited  bv 
iniquity,  are  the  common  indications  of  probitv  and 
he  operations  of  an  animated,  upright,  altgfnerons 
spirit  To  guard  against  unjust  partialities,  and  ill- 
grounded  antipathies;  to  maintain  that  composure  of 
mind,  which,  without  impairing  its  sensibility^ ardor 

tZZ  m  T"7  inS}"nce  With  discernmen/and  pene: 
tration,  are  the  marks  of  a  vigorous  and   ™it;  i 

ffirit  To  be  able  to  follow  the  dTcates  of  such  a  spMt 
through  all  the  varieties  of  human  life,  and  with  a  m ind 

Epammondas,  "  and  let  me  bleed."  ' 


8 


(74) 


HAPPINESS. 

The  dispositions  of  men,  and  consequently  their  occu- 
pations, are  commonly  divided  into  two  principal  class- 
es; the  selfish  and  the  social.  The  first  are  indulged  in 
solitude;  and  if  they  carry  a  reference  to  mankind,  it  is 
that  of  emulation,  competition,  and  enmity.  The  second 
incline  us  to  live  with  our  fellow-creatures,  and  to  do 
them  good;  they  tend  to  unite  the  members  of  society 
together;  they  terminate  in  a  mutual  participation  of 
their  cares  and  enjoyments,  and  render  the  presence  of 
men  an  occasion  of  joy.  Under  this  class  may  be  enu- 
merated the  passions  of  the  sexes,  the  affection  of  pa- 
rents and  children,  general  humanity,  or  singular  attach- 
ments; above  all,  the  habit  of  the  soul  by  which  we  con- 
sider ourselves  as  but  a  part  of  some  beloved  community, 
and  as  but  individual  members  of  some  society,  whose 
general  welfare  is  to  us  the  supreme  object  of  zeal^  and 
the  great  rule  of  our  conduct.  This  affection  is  a  prin- 
ciple of  candor,  which  knows  no  partial  distinctions, 
and  is  confined  to  no  bounds:  it  may  extend  its  effects 
beyond  our  personal  acquaintance;  it  may,  in  the  mind, 
and  in  thought,  at  least,  make  us  feel  a  relation  to  the 
universe,  and  to  the  whole  creation  of  God.  M  Shall  any 
one."  says  Antoninus,  "  love  the  city  of  Cecrops,  and 
you  not  love  the  city  of  God  "  [that  is.  the  whole  sentient 
creation].  He  who  remembers  that  he  is  by  nature  a 
rational  being,  and  a  member  of  society — that  to  preserve 
himself,  is  to  preserve  his  reason,  and  to  preserve  the 
best  feelings  of  his  heart — will  not  encounter  the  incon- 
venience of  envy,  avarice  or  malice;  and  in  the  care 
of  himself,  will  find  subjects  only  of  satisfaction  and 
triumph. 

The  division  of  our  appetites  into  benevolent  and  self- 
ish, has  probably,  in  some  degree,  helped  to  mislead  our 
apprehension  on  the  subject  of  personal  enjoyment  and 
private  good;  and  our  zeal  to  prove  that  virtue  is  dis- 
interested, has  not  greatly  promoted  its  cause.  The 
gratification  of  a  selfish  desire,  it  is  thought,  brings  ad- 
vantage or  pleasure  to  ourselves;  that  of  benevolence 


HAPPINESS. 


75 


terminates  in  the  pleasure  or  advantage  to  others:  where- 
as, in  reality,  the  gratification  of  every  desire  is  a  per- 
sonal enjoyment,  and  its  value  being  proportioned  to  the 
particular  quality  or  force  of  the  sentiment,  it  may  hap- 
pen that  the  same  person  may  reap  a  greater  advantage 
from  the  good  fortune  he  has  procured  to  another/ than 
that  he  has  obtained  for  himself. 

While  the  gratifications  of  benevolence,  therefore,  are 
as  much  our  own  as  those  of  any  other  desire  whatever, 
the  mere  exercises  of  this  disposition  are,  on  many  ac- 
counts, to  be  considered  as  the  first  and  the  principal 
constituent  of  human  happiness.  Every  act  of  kind- 
ness, or  of  care,  in  the  parent  to  his  child;  every  emo- 
tion of  the  heart,  in  friendship  or  in  love,  in  public  zeal, 
or  general  humanity,  are  so  many  acts  of  enjoyment  and 
satisfaction.  Pity  itself,  and  compassion,  even  grief  and 
melancholy,  when  grafted  on  some  tender  affection,  par- 
take of  the  nature  of  the  stock;  and  if  they  are  not 
positive  pleasures,  are  at  least  pains  of  a  peculiar  nature, 
which  we  do  not  even  wish  to  exchange  but  for  a  very 
real  enjoyment,  obtained  in  relieving  our  object.  Even 
extremes,  in  this  class  of  our  disposition,  as  they  are 
the  reverse  of  hatred,  envy,  and  malice,  so  they  are 
never  attended  with  those  ex.crutiating  anxieties,  jeal- 
ousies and  fears,  which  tear  the  interested  mind;  or  if, 
in  reality,  any  ill  passion  arise  from  a  pretended  attach- 
ment to  our  fellow-creatures,  that  attachment  may  be 
safely  condemned,  as  not  genuine.  If  we  be  distrustful 
or  jealous,  our  pretended  affection  is  probably  no  more 
than  a  desire  of  attention  and  personal  consideration,  a 
motive  which  frequently  inclines  us  to  be  connected  with 
our  fellow- creatures;  but  to  which  we  are  as  frequently 
willing  to  sacrifice  their  happiness.  We  consider  them 
as  the  tools  of  our  vanity,  pleasure,  or  interest;  not  as 
the  parties  on  whom  we  may  bestow  the  effects  of  our 
good-will  and  our  love. 

A  mind  devoted  to  this  class  of  its  affections,  being 
occupied  with  an  object  that  may  engage  it  habitually,  is 
not  reduced  to  court  the  amusements  or  pleasures  with 
which  persons  of  an  ill  temper  are  obliged  to  repair 
their  disgusts:  and  temperance  becomes  an  easy  task 


76 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY 


when  gratifications  of  sense  are  supplanted  by  those  of 
the  heart.  Courage  too  is  most  easily  assumed,  or  is 
rather  inseparable  from  that  ardor  of  the  mind,  in  so- 
ciety, friendship,  or  in  public  actions,  which  makes  us 
forget  subjects  of  personal  anxiety  or  fear,  and  attend 
chiefly  to  the  object  of  our  zeal  or  affection,  not  to  the 
trifling  inconveniences,  dangers,  or  hardships,  which  we 
ourselves  may  encounter  in  striving  to  maintain  it. 

It  should  seem,  therefore,  to  be  the  happiness  of  man, 
to  make  his  social  dispositions  the  ruling  spring  of  his 
occupations;  to  state  himself  as  the  member  of  a  com- 
munity, for  whose  general  good  his  heart  may  glow  with 
an  ardent  zeal,  to  the  suppression  of  those  personal 
cares  which  are  the  foundation  of  painful  anxieties,  fear, 
jealousy,  and  envy;  or,  as  Mr.  Pope  expresses  the  same 
sentiment — 

"  Man,  like  the  generous  vine,  supported  lives; 
The  strength  he  gains,  is  from  the  embrace  he  gives. 
On  their  own  axis  as  the  planets  run, 
Yet  make  at  once  their  circle  round  the  sun; 
So  two  consistent  motions  acts  the  soul  •, 
And  one  regards  itself,  and  one  the  whole. 
Thus  God  and  nature  linked  the  general  frame, 
And  bade  self-love  and  social  be  the  same." 

If  this  be  the  good  of  the  individual,  it  is  likewise 
that  of  mankind;  and  virtue  no  longer  imposes  a  task 
by  which  we  are  obliged  to  bestow  upon  others  that 
good  from  which  we  ourselves  refrain;  but  supposes,  in 
the  highest  degree,  as  possessed  by  ourselves,  that  state 
of  felicity  which  we  are  required  to  promote  in  the 
world. 

We  commonly  apprehend,  that  it  is  our  duty  to  do  kind- 
nesses, and  our  happiness  to  receive  them:  but  if  in 
reality,  courage,  and  a  heart  devoted  to  the  good  of  man- 
kind, are  the  constituents  of  human  felicity,  the  kind- 
ness which  is  done  infers  a  happiness  in  the  person  from 
whom  it  proceeds,  as  well  as  in  him  on  whom  it  is  be- 
stowed; and  the  greatest  good  which  men  possessed  of 
fortitude  and  generosity  can  procure  to  their  fellow-crea- 
tures, is  a  participation  of  this  happy  character.  ' 6  You 
will  confer  the  greatest  benefit  on  your  city,"  said  Epic 


HAPPINESS 


77 


tetus,  "  not  by  raising  the  roofs,  but  by  exalting  the 
souls  of  your  fellow-citizens;  for  it  is  better  that  great 
souls  should  live  in  small  habitations,  than  that  abject 
slaves  should  burrow  in  great  houses." 

To  the  ancient  Greek,  or  the  Roman,  the  individual 
was  nothing,  and  the  public  every  thing.  To  the  modern 
nations,  the  individual  is  every  thing,  and  the  public 
nothing.  The  state  is  merely  a  combination  of  depart- 
ments, in  which  consideration,  wealth,  eminence,  or 
power,  are  offered  as  the  reward  of  service.  Men  have 
repressed  the  civil  disorders  in  which  the  activity  of 
early  ages  chiefly  consisted;  but  they  employ  the  calm 
they  have  gained,  not  in  fostering  a  zeal  for  those  laws, 
and  that  constitution  of  government,  to  which  they  owe 
their  protection,  but  in  practicing  apart,  and  each  for  him- 
self, the  several  arts  of  personal  advancement,  or  profit, 
which  their  political  establishments  may  enable  them  to 
pursue  with  success.  Commerce,  which  may  be  sup- 
posed to  comprehend  every  lucrative  art,  is  accordingly 
considered  as  the  great  object  of  nations,  and  the  princi- 
pal study  of  mankind. 

So  much  are  we  accustomed  to  consider  personal  for- 
tune as  the  sole  object  of  care,  that  even  under  popular 
establishments,  and  in  states  where  different  orders  of 
men  are  summoned  to  partake  in  the  government  of 
their  country,  and  where  the  liberties  they  enjoy  can  not 
be  long  preserved,  without  vigilance  and  activity  on  the 
part  of  the  people  or  subjects:  still  they,  who,  in  the 
vulgar  phrase,  have  not  their  fortunes  to  make,  are  sup- 
posed to  be  at  a  loss  for  occupation,  and  betake  them- 
selves to  solitary  pastimes,  or  cultivate  what  they  are 
pleased  to  call  a  taste  for  gardening,  building,  drawing 
or  music.  With  this  aid,  they  endeavor  to  fill  up  the 
blanks  of  a  listless  life,  and  avoid  the  necessity  of  curing 
their  langors  by  any  positive  service  to  their  country, 
or  to  mankind. 

The  weak  or  the  malicious  are  well  employed  in  any 
thing  that  is  innocent,  and  are  fortunate  in  finding  any 
occupation  which  prevents  the  effects  of  a  temper  that 
would  prey  upon  themselves,  or  upon  their  fellow-crea- 
tures.   But  they  who  are  blessed  with  a  happy  disposi- 


78 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


tion,  with  capacity  and  vigor,  incur  a  real  debauchery, 
by  having  any  amusement  that  occupies  an  improper 
share  of  their  time ;  and  are  really  cheated  of  their  hap- 
piness, in  being  made  to  believe,  that  any  occupation  or 
pastime  is  better  fitted  to  amuse  themselves,  than  that 
which  at  the  same  time  produces  some  real  good  to  their 
fellow-creatures  [or  fellow  animals]. 

This  sort  of  entertainment,  indeed,  can  not  be  the 
choice  of  the  mercenary,  the  envious,  or  the  malignant. 
Its  value  is  known  only  to  persons  of  an  opposite  tem- 
per; and  to  their  experience  alone  we  appeal.  Guided 
by  mere  disposition,  and  without  the  aid  of  reflection,  in 
business,  in  friendship,  and  in  public  life,  they  often 
acquit  themselves  well;  and  borne  with  satisfaction  on 
the  tide  of  their  emotions  and  sentiments,  enjoy  the  pre- 
sent hour  without  recollection  of  the  past,  or  hopes  of 
the  future.  It  is  in  speculation,  not  in  practice,  they 
are  made  to  discover,  that  virtue  is  a  task  of  severity 
and  self-denial. — Adam  Ferguson's  history  of  Civil  So- 
ciety. 


PRIMEVAL  INNOCENCE. 

With  what  a  liberal  hand  has  nature  spread 
The  living  flowers,  nutritious  fruits  and  plants, 
Profusely  wild  o'er  all  the  deep  green  earth! 
But  who  their  virtues  can  declare?  who  pierce, 
With  vision  pure,  into  the  secret  stores 
Of  health,  and  life,  and  joy?    The  food  of  man, 
While  yet  he  lived  in  innocence,  and  told 
A  length  of  golden  years;  unfleshed  in  blood 
A  stranger  to  the  savage  arts  of  life, 
Death,  rapine,  carnage,  surfeit,  and  disease; 
The  lord,  and  not  the  tyrant,  of  the  world. 
Nor  yet  injurious  act,  nor  surly  deed, 
Was  known  among  those  happy  sons  of  heaven; 
For  reason  and  benevolence  were  law. 
And  yet  the  wholesome  herb  neglected  dies 
Though  with  the  pure  exhilirating  soul 


PRIMEVAL  INNOCENCE. 


Of  nutriment  and  health,  the  vital  powers, 

Beyond  the  search  of  art,  'tis  copious  blest. 

Ror,  with  hot  rapine  fired,  ensanguined  man 

Is  now  become  the  lion  of  the  plain, 

And  worse.    The  wolf,  who  from  the  nighty  fold 

Fierce  drags  the  bleating  prey,  ne'er  drunk  her  milk 

Nor  wore  her  warming  fleece:  nor  has  the  steer, 

At  whose  strong  chest  the  deadly  tiger  hangs, 

E'er  ploughed  for  him.    They  too  are  tempered  high, 

With  hunger  stung  and  wild  necessity, 

Nor  lodges  pity  in  their  shaggy  breast. 

But  man,  whom  nature  formed  of  milder  clay, 

With  every  kind  emotion  in  his  heart, 

And  taught  alone  to  weep;  while  from  her  lap 

She  pours  ten  thousand  delicacies,  herbs, 

And  fruits,  as  numerous  as  the  drops  of  rain 

Or  beams  that  gave  them  birth:  shall  he,  fair  form! 

Who  wears  sweet  smiles,  and  looks  erect  on  heaven, 

E'er  stoop  to  mingle  with  the  prowling  herd, 

And  dip  his  tongue  in  gore? — 

These  are  not  subjects  for  the  peaceful  muse, 

Nor  will  she  stain  with  such  her  spotless  song. 

Then  most  delighted,  when  she  social  sees 

The  whole  mixed  animal  creation  round 

Alive,  and  happy.    'Tis  not  joy  to  her 

This  falsely-cheerful  barbarous  game  of  death, 

This  rage  of  pleasure,  which  the  restless  youth 

Awakes,  impatient,  with  the  gleaming  morn: 

When  beasts  of  prey  retire;  that  all  night  long, 

Urged  by  necessity,  had  ranged  the  dark, 

As  if  their  conscious  ravage  shunned  the  light, 

Ashamed.    Not  so  the  steady  tyrant  man, 

Who  with  the  thoughtless  insolence  of  power 

Inflamed,  beyond  the  most  infuriate  wrath 

Of  the  worst  monster  that  e'er  roamed  the  waste* 

For  sport  alone  pursues  the  cruel  chase, 

Amid  the  beaming  of  the  gentle  days. 

Upbraid,  ye  ravening  tribes,  our  wanton  rage, 

For  hunger  kindles  you,  and  lawless  want; 

But  lavish  fed,  in  nature  s  bounty  rolled, 

To  joy  at  anguish,  and  delight  in  bloods 


80 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


Is  what  your  horrid  bosoms  never  knew. 

Ah!  little  think  the  gay  licentious  proud, 

Whom  pleasure,  power,  and  affluence  surround; 

They  who  their  thoughtless  hours  in  giddy  mirth, 

And  wanton,  often  cruel  riot,  waste; 

Ah,  little  think  they,  while  they  dance  along, 

How  many  feel,  this  very  moment,  death. 

And  all  the  sad  variety  of  pain. 

How  many  sink  in  the  devouring  flood, 

Or  more  devouring  flame.    How  many  bleed, 

By  shameful  variance  betwixt  man  and  man! 

How  many  pine  in  want,  and  dungeon  glooms, 

Shut  from  the  common  air,  and  common  use 

Of  their  own  limbs!  how  many  drink  the  cup 

Of  baleful  grief,  or  eat  the  bitter  bread 

Of  misery!   Sore  pierced  by  wintry  winds 

How  many  shrink  into  the  sordid  hut 

Of  cheerless  poverty!   How  many  shake 

With  all  the  fiercer  tortures  of  the  mind, 

Unbounded  passion,  madness,  guilt,  remorse! 

How  many,  rack'd  with  honest  passions,  droop 

In  deep,  retired  distress!   How  many  stand 

Around  the  death  bed  of  their  dearest  friends, 

And  point  the  parting  anguish!    Thought,  fond  man, 

Of  these,  and  all  the  thousand  nameless  ills, 

That  one  incessant  struggle  render  life, 

One  scene  of  toil,  of  suffering,  and  of  fate, 

Vice  in  his  high  career  would  stand  appalled, 

And  heedless  rambling  impulse  learn  to  think; 

The  conscious  heart  of  charity  would  warm, 

And  her  wide  wish  benevolence  dilate; 

The  social  tear  would  rise,  the  social  sigh; 

And  into  clear  perfection,  gradual  bliss, 

Refining  still,  the  social  passions  work. 

Then  come;  ye  generous  minds,  in  whose  wide  thought 

And  liberal  eye,  creative  bounty  burns 

With  warmest  beam ;  aye  from  his  dark  retreat 

Inviting  modest  want.    Nor  till  invoked, 

Can  restless  goodness  wait  your  active  search. 

Leave  no  cold  wint'ry  corner  unexplored; 


THE  ECONOMY  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 


81 


Like  silent- working  heaven,  surprising  oft 
The  lonely  heart  with  unexpected  good. 
Reviving  sickness  lifts  her  languid  head; 
Life  flows  afresh;  and  bright-eyed  health  exalts 
The  whole  creation  round. — Thomson. 


THE  ECONOMY  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 

Let  not  hope  allure,  nor  fear  deter  thee  from  doing 
that  which  is  right;  so  shalt  thou  be  prepared  to  meet 
all  events  with  an  equal  mind 

The  terrors  even  of  death  are  no  terrors  to  the  good: 
restrain  thy  hand  from  evil,  and  thy  soul  shall  have  noth- 
ing to  fear. 

As  blossoms  and  flowers  are  strewed  upon  earth  by  the 
hand  of  spring;  as  the  kindness  of  summer  procmceth  in 
perfection  the  bounties  of  harvest:  so  the  smiles  of  pity 
shed  blessings  on  the  children  of  misfortune. 

He  who  pitieth  another,  recommendeth  himself;  but 
he  who  is  without  compassion  deserveth  it  not. 

Whilst  the  poor  man  groaneth  on  the  bed  of  sickness : 
whilst  the  unfortunate  languish  in  the  horrors  of  a  dun- 
geon, or  the  hoary  head  of  age  lifts  up  a  feeble  eye  to 
thee  for  pity:  0  how  canst  thou  riot  in  superfluous  en- 
joyments, regardless  of  their  wants,  unfeeling  of  their 
woes! 

Thy  food,  thy  clothing,  thy  convenience  of  habitation, 
thy  protection  from  injuries,  the  enjoyments  of  the  com- 
forts and  pleasures  of  life,  thou  owest  to  the  assistance 
of  others,  and  couldst  not  enjoy  but  in  the  hands  of  so- 
ciety. 

It  is  thy  duty,  therefore,  to  be  a  friend  to  mankind, 
as  it  is  thy  interest  that  men  should  be  friendly  to 
thee. 

As  the  rose  spreadeth  sweetness  from  his  own  nature, 
so  the  heart  of  a  benevolent  man  produceth  good  works. 

From  the  largeness  of  his  mind,  he  comprehendeth  in 
his  wishes  the  happiness  of  all  men:  and  from  the  gen- 
erosity of  his  heart  he  endeavoreth  to  promote  it. 


82 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


The  peace  of  society  dependeth  on  justice;  the  happi- 
ness of  individuals,  on  the  safe  enjoyment  of  their  pos- 
sessions. Keep  the  desires  of  thy  heart  therefore  within 
the  bounds  of  moderation;  let  the  hand  of  justice  lead 
them  aright. 

In  thy  dealings  with  men  be  impartial  and  just;  and  do 
unto  them  as  thou  wouldst  they  should  do  unto  thee. 

Be  faithful  to  thy  trust,  and  deceive  not  the  man  that 
relieth  upon  thee;  be  assured,  it  is  less  evil  in  the  sight 
of  God  to  steal  than  to  betray.  Oppress  not  the  poor, 
and  defraud  not  of  his  hire  the  laboring  man. 

Pay  the  debts  which  thou  owest ;  for  he  who  gave  thee 
credit,  relied  upon  thy  honor;  and  to  withhold  from  him 
his  due,  is  both  mean  and  unjust. 

Envy  not  thy  benefactor;  neither  strive  to  conceal  the 
benefit  Jie  hath  conferred:  for  though  to  oblige  is  better 
than  toJae  obliged,  and  the  act  of  generosity  commandeth 
admiration,  yet  the  humility  of  gratitude  toucheth  the 
heart,  and  is  amiable  in  the  sight  of  both  God  and  man. 

But  receive  not  a  favor  from  the  hand  of  the  proud;  to 
the  selfish  and  avaricious  have  no  obligation;  the  vanity 
of  pride  shall  expose  thee  to  shame;  the  greediness  of 
avarice  shall  never  be  satisfied. 

Wouldst  thou  enjoy  the  good  will  of  all  men,  let  thine 
own  benevolence  be  universal.  If  thou  obtainest  it  not  by 
this,  no  other  means  could  give  it  thee:  and  know,  though 
thou  hast  it  not;  thou  hast  the  greater  pleasure  of  having 
merited  it. 

Revenge  is  detestable:  what  then  is  cruelty?  Lo,  it 
possesseth  the  mischiefs  of  the  other;  but  it  wanteth  even 
the  pretence  of  its  provocations.  Men  disown  it  as  not 
of  their  nature;  they  are  ashamed  of  it  as  a  stranger  to 
their  hearts:  do  they  not  call  it  inhumanity  ? 

Thou  who  art  happy  in  the  mercy  of  thy  creator,  how 
darest  thou  in  wantonness  put  others  of  his  creatures  to 
torture  ?    Beware  that  it  turn  not  upon  thee. 

Serve  they  not  all  the  same  universal  master  with  thee? 
Hath  he  not  appointed  unto  each  its  laws?  Hath  he  not 
care  for  their  preservation  ?  and  darest  thou  to  infringe 
it? 


CIVILITY  AND  GOOD  BREEDING. 


83 


Do  the  good  that  thou  knowest,  and  happiness  shall  be 
unto  thee.  Virtue  is  more  thy  business  here  than  know- 
ledge.. 

Kiches  are  servants  to  the  wise;  but  they  are  tyrants 
over  the  soul  of  the  fool. 

Have  not  the  wisest  men  been  those  who  have  had  the 
least  of  it  ?  And  is  not  wisdom  happiness  ?  Have  not 
the  worst  of  thy  species  possessed  the  greatest  portion  of 
it  ?  and  hath  not  their  end  been  miserable  ? 

If  thou  art  industrious  to  procure  gold,  be  generous  in 
the  disposal  of  it.  Man  is  never  so  happy  as  when  he 
giveth  happiness  to  another. 

He  that  prodigally  lavisheth  that  which  he  hath  to 
spare,  robbeth  the  poor  of  what  nature  giveth  them  a 
right  unto.  He  who  squandereth  away  his  treasure,  re- 
fuseth  the  means  to  do  good:  he  denieth  himself  the 
practice  of  virtues,  whose  reward  is  in  their  han^,  whose 
end  is  no  other  than  his  own  happiness. 

Think  not  the  longest  life  the  happiest;  that  which  is 
the  best  employed,  doth  man  the  most  honor;  himself 
shall  rejoice,  after  death,  in  the  advantage  of  it. 

Dodsley. 


CIVILITY  AND  GOOD  BREEDING. 

Good  breeding  is  the  result  of  much  good  sense,  some 
good  nature,  and  a  little  self  denial  for  the  sake  of  others, 
and  with  a  view  to  obtain  the  same  indulgence  from  them. 
It  is  astonishing  to  me,  that  any  body,  who  has  good  sense 
and  good  nature,  can  essentially  fail  in  good  breeding. 
As  to  the  modes  of  it,  indeed,  they  vary  according  to 
persons,  places,  and  circumstances;  and  are  only  to  be 
acquired  by  observation  and  experience ;  but  the  substance 
of  it  is  every  where  and  eternally  the  same.  Good  man- 
ners are,  to  particular  societies,  what  good  morals  are  to 
societies  in  general:  their  cement  and  their  security. 
And  as  laws  are  enacted  to  enforce  good  morals,  or  at 
least  to  prevent  the  ill  effects  of  bad  ones,  so  there  are 
certain  rules  of  civility,  universally  implied  and  received, 


64 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


to  enforce  good  manners,  and  punish  bad  ones.  And  in- 
deed there  seems  to  me  to  be  less  difference,  both  between 
the  crimes  and  punishments,  than  at  first  one  would 
imagine.  The  immoral  man,  who  invades  another's 
rights,  is  justly  punished  for  it  by  law;  and  the  ill-bred 
man,  who  by  his  ill  manners  invades  and  disturbs  the 
quiet  and  comforts  of  private  life,  is  by  common  consent 
as  justly  banished  society.  Mutual  complaisances,  at- 
tentions, and  sacrifices  of  little  conveniences,  are  as 
natural  an  implied  compact  between  civilized  people,  as 
protection  and  obedience  are  between  the  people  and  their 
laws :  whoever,  in  either  case,  violates  that  compact, 
justly  forfeits  all  advantages  arising  from  it.  For  my 
own  part,  I  really  think,  that,  next  to  the  consciousness 
of  doing  a  good  action,  that  of  doing  a  civil  one  is  the 
most  pleasing;  and  the  epithet  which  I  should  covet  the 
most,  n^xt  to  that  of  Aristides  [the  just],  would  be  that 
of  well-bred.  Thus  much  for  good  breeding  in  general. 
I  will  now  consider  some  of  its  various  modes  and  de- 
grees. 

First.  Very  few,  scarcely  any,  are  wanting  in  the 
respect  which  they  should  show  to  those  whom  they 
acknowledge  to  be  infinitely  their  superiors;  such  as 
crowned  heads,  princes,  and  public  persons  of  dis- 
tinguished and  eminent  posts.  It  is  the  manner  of  show- 
ing that  respect  which  is  different.  The  man  of  fashion, 
and  of  the  world,  expresses  it  in  its  fullest  extent;  but 
naturally,  easily,  and  without  concern;  whereas  a  man, 
who  is  not  used  to  keep  good  company,  expresses  it  awk- 
wardly; one  sees  that  he  is  not  used  to  it,  and  that  it 
costs  him  a  great  deal ;  but  I  never  saw  the  worst  bred 
man  living,  guilty  of  lolling,  whistling,  scratching  his 
head,  and  such  like  indecencies,  in  company  that  he  re- 
spected. In  such  companies,  therefore,  the  only  point  to 
be  attended  to  is,  to  show  that  respect,  which  everybody 
means  to  show,  in  an  easy,  unembarrassed,  and  graceful 
manner.  This  is  what  observation  and  experience  must 
teach. 

Second.  In  mixed  companies,  whoever  is  admitted  to 
make  part  of  them,  is,  for  the  time  at  least,  supposed  to 
be  upon  a  footing  of  equality  with  the  rest;  and,  conse- 


ClVILltY  AND  GOOD  BREEDING. 


85 


quently,  as  there  is  no  one  principal  object  of  awe  and 
respect,  people  are  apt  to  take  a  greater  latitude  in  their 
behavior,  and  to  be  less  upon  their  guard,  and  so  they 
may,  provided  it  be  within  certain  bounds,  which  are 
upon  no  occasion  to  be  transgressed.  But.  upon  these 
occasions,  though  no  one  is  entitled  to  distinguished 
marks  of  respect,  every  one  claims,  and  very  justly,  every 
mark  of  civilty  and  good  breeding.  Ease  is  allowed,  but 
carelessness  and  negligence  are  strictly  forbidden.  If  a 
man  accosts  you,  and  talks  to  you  ever  so  dully  or 
frivolously,  it  is  worse  than  rudeness,  it  is  brutality,  to 
show  him  by  a  manifest  inattention  to  what  he  says,  that 
you  think  him  a  fool  or  a  blockhead,  and  not  worth  heal- 
ing. It  is  much  more  so  with  regard  to  women;  who,  of 
whatever  rank  they  are,  are  entitled,  in  consideration  of 
their  sex,  not  only  to  an  attentive,  but  an  officious  good 
breeding  from  men.  No  provocation  can  justify  any  man 
in  not  being  civil  to  every  woman;  and  the  greatest  man 
would  justly  be  reckoned  a  brute  if  ho  was  not  civil  to 
the  meanest  woman.  It  is  justly  due  to  their  sex,  and  is-, 
the  chief  protection  they  have  against  the  superior- 
strength  of  ours.  Observe  the  best  and  most  well  bred 
of  the  French  people,  how  agreeably  they  insinuate  little- 
civilties  in  their  conversation.  They  think  it  so  essen- 
tial, that  they  call  an  honest  man  and  a  civil  man  by  the 
same  name,  of  honnete  homme;  and  the  Romans  called 
civility  httmmitas,  as  thinking  it  inseparable  from  hu> 
inanity.  Never  usurp  to  yourself  those  little  conveniences 
and  delicacies  which  are  of  common  right;  such  as  the- 
best  places,  the  best  dishes,  &c  ;  but  on  the  contrary,, 
always  decline  them  yourself,  and  offer  them  to  others; 
who,  in  their  turns,  will  offer  them  to  you:  so  that,  upon' 
the  whole,  you  will,  in  your  turn,  enjoy  your  share  of 
the  common  right.  It  would  be  endless  to  enumerate  all 
the  instances  of  good  breeding:  good  sense  will  point  them 
out,  good  nature  will  recommend,  and  self  interest  will 
enforce  their  practice. 

There  is  a  third  sort  of  good  breeding,  in  which  people- 
are  the  most  apt  to  fail,  from  a  very  mistaken  notion  that 
they  can  not  fail  at  all — I  mean,  with  regard  to  one's  most 
familiar  friends  and  acquaintances,  or  those  who  really- 


86 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


are  our  inferiors;  and  there,  undoubtedly,  a  greater  degree 
of  ease  is  not  only  allowed,  but  proper,  and  contributes 
much  to  the  comforts  of  a  private,  social  life.  But  that 
ease  and  freedom  have  their  bounds  too,  which  must  by 
no  means  be  violated.  A  certain  degree  of  negligence 
and  carelessness  becomes  injurious  and  insulting,  from 
the  real  or  supposed  inferiority  of  the  persons;  and  that 
delightful  liberty  of  conversation  among  a  few  friends,  is 
soon  destroyed,  as  liberty  often  has  been,  by  being  carried 
to  licentiousness.  Were  I  to  show  you,  by  a  manifest 
inattention  to  what  you  said  to  me,  that  I  was  thinking 
of  something  else  the  whole  time;  were  I  to  yawn  ex- 
tremely, snore,  or  belch  in  your  company.  I  should  think 
that  I  behaved  myself  to  you  like  a  beast,  and  should  not 
expect  that  you  would  care  to  frequent  me.  No :  the 
most  familiar  and  intimate  habitudes,  connections  and 
friendships,  require  a  degree  of  good  breeding,  both  to 
preserve  and  cement  them.  If  ever  a  man  and  his  wife, 
who  pass  nights  as  well  as  days  together,  absolutely  lay 
aside  all  good  breeding,  their  intimacy  will  soon  degen- 
erate into  a  coarse  familiarity,  infallibly  productive  of 
contempt  or  disgust.  The  best  of  us  have  our  bad  sides, 
and  it  is  as  imprudent  as  it  is  ill  bred  to  exhibit  them. 
Ceremony  would  be  misplaced  between  intimate  ac- 
quaintances, but  respectful  civilty  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary. 

There  are  no  persons  so  insignificant  and  inconsider- 
able, but  may  some  time  or  other,  and  in  some  thing  or 
other,  have  it  in  their  power  to  be  of  use  to  you;-  which 
they  certainly  will  not  if  you  have  once  shown  them  con- 
tempt. Wrongs  are  often  forgiven,  but  contempt  or  insult 
never  is.  Our  pride  remembers  it  forever.  If  therefore 
you  would  rather  please  than  offend,  rather  be  well  than 
ill  spoken  of,  rather  be  loved  than  hated,  preserve  a  con- 
stant attention  to  the  feelings  and  wishes  of  others. 

Banish  egotism  out  of  your  conversation,  and  never 
think  of  entertaining  people  with  your  own  personal  con- 
cerns, or  private  affairs;  though  they  are  interesting  to 
you,  they  are  tedious  and  impertinent  to  every  body  else; 
besides  that,  one  can  not  keep  one's  own  private  affairs 
too  secret.    Whatever  you  think  your  own  excellencies 


CIVILITY  AND  GOOD  BREEDING. 


87 


may  be,  do  not  affectedly  display  them  in  company;  nor 
labor  as  many  people  do,  to  give  that  turn  to  the  conver- 
sation which  may  supply  you  with  an  opportunity  of  ex- 
hibiting them.  If  they  are  are  real  they  will  infallibly 
be  discovered,  without  your  pointing  them  out  yourself, 
and  with  much  more  advantage. 

Never  maintain  an  argument  with  heat  and  clamor, 
though  you  think  or  know  yourself  to  be  in  the  right: 
but  give  your  opinion  modestly  and  coolly,  which  is  the 
only  way  to  convince.  It  is  as  natural,  and  as  allowable, 
that  another  man  should  differ  in  opinion  from  me,  as 
that  I  should  differ  from  him,  and  if  we  are  both  sincere, 
we  are  both  blameless;  and  should  consequently  have 
mutual  indulgence  for  each  other. 

Believe  yourself  born  not  for  yourself  only  but  for  the 
world. 

Lucan  says  that  this  is  a  part  of  the  character  of  Cato2 
who  did  not  think  himself  born  for  himself  only  but  for 
all  mankind.  Is  a  man  born  only  for  his  own  pleasure 
and  advantage;  or  is  he  not  obliged  to  contribute  to  the 
good  of  society  in  which  he  lives,  and  of  all  mankind  in 
general  ?  This  is  certain,  that  every  man  receives  ad- 
vantages from  society  which  he  could  not  have  if  he  were 
the  only  man  in  the  world;  therefore  is  he  not  in  the 
same  measure  indebted  to  society  ?  and  is  he  not  obliged 
to  do  for  others  what  they  have  done,  or  do  for  him  ? 

There  is  nothing  so  delicate  as  moral  character,  and 
nothing  which  it  is  so  much  your  interest  to  preserve 
pure.  Should  you  be  guilty  of  injustice,  malignity,  per- 
fidy, lying,  &c,  all  the  parts  and  knowledge  in  the  world 
will  never  procure  you  esteem,  friendship,  or  respect. 
If  unfortunately  you  have  any  vices  [or  fonies] ,  at  least 
be  content  with  your  own,  and  adopt  not  those  of  others. 
The  adoption  of  vice  has  ruined  ten  times  more  young 
men,  than  natural  inclinations.  Choose  your  pleasures 
for  yourself,  do  not  let  them  be  imposed  upon  you.  Fol- 
low nature  and  not  fashion;  weigh  the  present  enjoyment 
of  your  pleasures  against  the  necessary  consequences  of 
them,  and  then  let  your  own  common  sense  determine 
your  choice. 

Neither  retail  or  receive  scandal,  willingly;  for  though 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


the  defamation  of  others  may,  for  the  present,  gratify  the 
malignity  or  pride  of  our  hearts,  cool  reflection  will  draw 
very  disadvantageous  conclusions  from  such  a  disposition; 
and  in  the  case  of  scandal,  as  in  that  of  robbery,  the  re- 
ceiver is  always  th ought  as  bad  as  the  thief. 

Mimicry,  which  is  the  common  and  favorite  amusement 
of  little,  low  minds,  is  in  the  utmost  contempt  with  great 
ones.  It  is  the  lowest  and  most  illiberal  of  all  buffoonery. 
Neither  practice  it  yourself,  nor  applaud  it  in  others. 
Besides  that,  the  person  mimicked  is  insulted:  and,  as  I 
have  often  observed  before,  an  insult  is  never  forgiven. 

In  your  person  you  must  be  accurately  clean;  your 
teeth  should  be  superlatively  so.  A  dirty  mouth  has  real 
ill  consequences  to  the  owner,  for  it  infallibly  causes  the 
decay  of  the  teeth.  I  insist  that  you  wash  your  teeth 
every  day  with  water.  [The  tooth  brush  should  be  used  on, 
the  back  teeth,  and  the  inside  of  all  the  teeth,  where  the 
remains  of  the  food  lodges,  as  well  as  on  the  outside  of 
the  front  teeth.  Draw  the  brush  in  the  same  direction 
as  a  tooth  pick,  perpendicularly,  on  the  upper  teeth 
downward,  and  on  the  lower  teeth  upward.]  Picking  of 
the  teeth,  nose  or  ears  in  company  is  a  vulgar  rudeness 
too  disgusting  to  dwell  on. 

One  word  also  as  to  swearing.  You  may  sometimes  hear 
some  people  in  good  company,  interlard  their  discourse 
with  oaths,  by  way  of  embellishment,  as  they  think;  but 
you  must  observe,  too,  that  those  who  do  so,  are  never 
those  who  contribute,  in  any  degree,  to  give  that  company 
the  denomination  of  good  company.  They  are  always 
subalterns,  or  people  of  low  education:  for  that  practice, 
besides  that  it  has  not  one  temptation  to  plead,  is  as  silly 
and  as  illiberal  as  it  is  wicked. 

Always  retain  in  your  thoughts  [and  follow  in  your 
actions]  the  useful  and  necessary  rule  Suaviter  in  modo, 
fortiter  in  re  ["  gentle  in  manner,  firm  in  conduct"]. 
The  gentle  in  manner  would  degenerate  and  sink  into  a 
mean  and  timid  complaisance  and  passiveness,  if  not  sup- 
ported and  dignified  by  real  firmness,  which  also  would 
run  into  impetuosity  and  brutality,  if  not  tempered  and 
softened  by  gentleness  of  manner.  If  you  are  in  autho- 
rity and  have  a  right  to  command,  your  commands,  de- 


CIVILITY  AND  GOOD  BREEDING. 


33 


livered  tenderly,  will  be  willingly,  cheerfully,  and  conse- 
quently well  obeyed;  whereas,  if  given  only  imperatively, 
that  is,  brutally,  they  will  rather,  as  Tacitus  says,  be  in> 
tcrpreted  than  executed.  For  my  own  part,  if  I  bid  my 
footman  bring  me  a  glass  of  wine,  in  a  rough  insulting 
manner,  I  should  expect,  that,  in  obeying  me,  he  would 
contrive  to  spill  some  of  it  upon  me;  and  I  am  sure  I 
would  deserve  it.  A  cool,  steady  resolution  should  show, 
that  where  you  have  a  right  to  command,  you  will  bo 
obeyed;  but,  at  the  same  time,  a  gentleness  in  the  man- 
ner of  enforcing  that  obedience  should  make  it  a  cheerful 
one,  and  soften  as  much  as  possible  the  mortifying  con- 
sciousness of  inferiority.  If  you  are  to  ask  a  favor,  or 
even  to  solicit  your  due,  you  must  do  it  with  gentleness, 
or  you  will  give  those,  who  have  a  mind  to  refuse  you 
either,  a  pretence  to  do  it,  by  resenting  the  manner;  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  you  must  by  a  steady  perseverance 
and  decent  tenaciousness,  show  actual  firmness.  Sudden 
passion  is  short  lived  madness,  but  the  fits  of  it  return 
so  often  in  choleric  people,  that  it  may  be  called  a  con- 
tinual madness.  Study  to  subdue  or  at  least  to  check  it; 
resolve  not  to  speak  or  act  till  your  choler  has  subsided. 
Be  cool  and  steady  on  all  occasions;  the  advantages  of 
such  a  steady  calmness  are  innumerable.  It  may  be  ac- 
quired by  care  and  reflection,  if  it  could  not,  that  reason 
which  distinguishes  men  from  brutes,  would  be  given  us 
to  very  little  purpose;  as  a  proof  of  this,  I  never  saw, 
and  scarcely  ever  heard  of  a  Quaker  in  a  passion;  in 
truth,  there  is  in  that  sect  a  decorum  and  a  decency,  and 
an  amiable  simplicity.  If  you  find  a  hastiness  in  your 
temper,  which  breaks  out  in  rough  expressions  or  actions 
to  your  superiors,  your  equals  or  your  inferiors;  watch  it 
narrowly,  check  it  carefully,  and  call  to  your  assistance 
suaviter  in  modo.  On  the  other  hand,  let  no  complais- 
ance, no  gentleness  of  temper,  no  weak  desire  of  pleas- 
ing on  your  part,  no  wheedling,  coaxing,  nor  flattery, 
of  other  people's,  make  you  recede  one  jot  from  any  point 
that  reason  and  prudence  have  bid  you  pursue;  but  return 
to  the  charge,  persist,  persevere,  and  you  will  find  most 
things  attainable  that  are  possible.  A  yielding,  timid 
meekness  is  always  abused  and  insulted  by  the  unjust 


90 


SPIRIT   OF  HUMANITY. 


and  the  unfeeling,  but  when  sustained  by  the  fortiter  in  re 
is  always  respected,  commonly  successful.  Let  your 
firmness  and  vigor  preserve  and  invite  attachments  to 
you;  but  at  the  same  time,  let  your  manner  hinder  the 
enemies  of  your  friends  from  becoming  yours :  let  your 
own  enemies  be  disarmed  by  the  gentleness  of  your  man- 
ner; but  let  them  feel  at  the  same  time,  the  steadiness  of 
your  just  resentment;  for  there  is  great  difference  between 
bearing  malice,  which  is  always  ungenerous,  and  a  reso- 
lute seld-defence,  which  is  always  prudent  and  justifiable. 
The  true  heroes  are  such  as  Julius  Caesar,  Titus,  Trajan, 
and  the  king  of  Prussia;  who  cultivated  and  encouraged 
arts  and  sciences;  whose  animal  courage  was  accompa- 
nied by  the  tender  and  social  sentiments  of  humanity;  and 
who  had  more  pleasure  in  improving,  than  in  destroying 
their  fellow  creatures. 

It  is  a  very  old  and  very  true  maxim,  that  those  kings 
reign  the  most  secure,  and  the  most  absolute,  who  reign 
in  the  hearts  of  their  people.  Their  popularity  is  a  bet- 
ter guard  than  their  army;  and  the  affections  of  their 
subjects  a  better  pledge  of  their  obedience  than  their 
fears.  This  rule  is,  in  proportion,  full  as  true,  though 
upon  a  different  scale,  with  regard  to  private  people.  A 
man  who  possesses  that  great  art  of  pleasing  universally, 
and  of  gaining  the  affections  of  those  with  whom  he  con- 
verses, possesses  a  strength  which  nothing  else  can  give 
him:  a  strength,  which  facilitates  and  helps  his  rise;  and 
which,  in  case  of  accidents,  breaks  his  fall.  You  can  not 
I  am  sure,  think  yourself  superior  by  nature  to  the  do- 
mestic who  cleans  your  room,  or  the  footman  who  cleans 
your  shoes.  Enjoy  all  your  advantages;  but  without  in- 
sulting those  who  are  unfortunate  enough  to  want  them, 
or  even  doing  any  thing  unnecessarily  that  may  remind 
them  of  that  want.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  more  upon 
my  guard  as  to  my  behavior  to  my  servants,  and  others 
who  are  called  my  inferiors,  then  I  am  towards  my  equals; 
for  fear  of  being  suspected  of  that  mean  and  ungenerous 
sentiment,  of  desiring  to  make  others  feel  that  differenco 
which  fortune  has,  and  perhaps,  too,  undeservedly,  made 
between  us.  Young  people  do  not  enough  attend  to  this: 
but  falsely  imagine  that  the  imperative  mood,  and  a  rough 


CIVILITY  AND  GOOD  BREEDING.  91 

tone  of  authority  and  decision,  arc  indications  of  spirit 
and  courage.  Inattention  is  always  looked  upon,  though 
sometimes  unjustly,  as  the  effect  of  pride  and  contempt; 
and  where  it  is  thought  so,  is  never  forgiven.  In  this 
article  young  people  are  generally  exceedingly  to  blame, 
and  offend  extremely. 

Good  sense,  complaisance,  gentleness  of  manners,  at- 
tention and  graces  are  the  only  things  that  truly  engage 
and  durably  keep  the  heart  at  the  long  run.  Knowledge 
may  give  weight,  but  accomplishments  give  the  lustre, 
and  many  more  people  see  than  weigh.  Good  breeding 
carries  along  with  it  a  dignity  that  is  respected  by  the 
most  petulant.  Ill  breeding  invites  and  authorizes  the 
familiarity  of  the  most  timid.  Our  own  good  breeding 
therefore,  is  our  best  security  against  other  people's  ill 
manners.  The  person  who  manifests  a  constant  desire 
to  please,  places  his,  perhaps,  small  stock,  of  merit  at 
great  interest.  What  vast  returns,  then,  must  real  merit, 
when  thus  adorned,  necessarily  bring  in!  Civility  is  the 
essential  article  towards  pleasing,  but  good  breeding  is 
the  decoration  and  the  luster  of  civility,  and  is  to  be  ac- 
quired by  attention  and  experience.  A  good  natured 
"horse  jockey"  or  fox  hunter  may  be  intentionally  as 
civil  as  the  politest  courtier;  but  their  manner  often  de- 
grades and  vilifies  the  matter;  whereas,  in  good  breeding, 
the  manner  always  adorns  and  dignifies  the  matter  to 
such  a  degree,  that  I  have  often  known  it  give  currency 
to  base  coin.  The  British  manner  of  hunting  is  fit  only 
for  bumpkins  and  boobies;  the  poor  beasts  are  pursued 
and  run  down  by  much  greater  beasts  than  themselves. 

The  desire  of  being  pleased  is  universal:  the  desire  of 
pleasing  should  be  so  too.  There  are,  indeed,  some 
moral  duties  of  a  much  higher  nature  but  none  of  a  more 
amiable.  The  manner  of  conferring  favors  or  benefits 
is,  as  to  pleasing,  almost  as  important  as  the  matter  it- 
self. Take  care  then  never  to  throw  away  the  obligations 
which  you  may  have  in  your  power  to  confer  upon 
others,  by  an  air  of  insolent  protection,  or  by  a  cold  and 
comfortless  manner,  which  stifles  them  in  their  birth. 
Humanity  inclines,  religion  requires,  and  our  moral 
duties  oblige  us,  as  far  as  we  are  able,  to  relieve  the  dis- 


92 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


tresses  and  miseries  of  our  fellow  creatures:  but  this  is 
not  all;  for  a  true  heart-felt  benevolence  and  tender- 
ness will  prompt  us  to  contribute  what  we  can  to  their 
ease,  their  amusement  and  their  pleasure  as  far  as  in- 
nocently we  ma}-.  Let  us  then  not  only  scatter  benefits, 
but  even  strew  flowers  for  our  fellow  travelers,  in  the 
rugged  ways  of  this  wretched  world. — Chesterfield. 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  CRUELTY. 

The  following  description  of  the  moral  paintings  of 
William  Hogarth,  illustrative  of  the  progress  of  cru- 
elty, is  by  Rev.  John  Trusler.  The  plates  were  designed, 
says  Hogarth  ' 'with  the  hope  of  in  some  degree  cor- 
recting that  barbarous  treatment  of  animals,  the  very 
sight  of  which  renders  the  streets  of  our  metropolis 
so  distressing  to  every  feeling  mind.  If  they  have 
that  effect  in  checking  the  progress  of  cruelty,  I  am 
more  proud  of  being  their  author  than  I  should  be  of 
having  painted  Raphael's  Cartoons." 


THE  FIRST  STAGE  OF  CRUELTY. 

"What  various  scenes  of  cruel  sport 

The  infant  race  employ. 
What  future  baseness,  must  import 

The  tyrant  in  the  boy. 

"Behold  a  youth  of  gentler  look, 
'To  save  the  creature's  pain, 

'0  take!'  he  cries,  'here  take  my  book/ 
But  tears  and  book  are  vain. 

"Learn  from  this  fair  example,  you 
Whom  savage  sports  delight, 

How  cruelty  disgusts  the  view, 
While  pity  charms  the  sight, " 


THE  FIRST  STAGE  OF  CRUELTY. 


98 


The  first  plate  represents  an  imaginary  collection  of 
children  of  various  ages,  engaged  in  different  barbarous 
diversions;  some  solitary,  some  in  groups.  The  wretch 
on  the  right  hand  corner  in  front,  is  tying  a  bone  to  a 
dog's  tail,  in  order  to  hurry  it  through  the  streets  and 
enjoy  its  terror  and  pain;  this  cruel  act  is  heightened  by 
the  a&ectionate  creature's  turning  round  and  innocently 
attempting  to  lick  the  boy's  hand.  Next  to  him  is  a  lad 
setting  two  cocks  to  fight;  a  refined  amusement  practiced 
also  by  full-grown  children.  On  the  left  corner  a  dog  is 
urged  to  worry  and  tear  to  pieces  one  of  the  tabby  kind, 
by  a  young  master.  Further  back  on  the  right  of  the 
plate  is  seen  a  fellow  who  is  the  hero  of  these  plates, 
and  was  by  Mr.  Hogarth  named  Nero,  after  the  old  Ro- 
man monster.  He  has  deprived  his  dog  of  its  cars,  and 
is  about  cutting  off  its  tail  with  his  shears,  one  of  his 
comrades  securing  and  choking  the  animal  with  a  rope 
round  its  neck.  A  youth  returning  from  school,  inter- 
cedes in  behalf  of  the  maimed,  suffering  creature,  and 
even  offers  the  other  a  book  as  a  present,  if  he  will  re- 
lease the  dog.  This  shows  not  only  the  necessity  of 
general  instruction,  but  also  that  general  humanity  should 
always  be  an  essential  constituent  of  education,  without 
which,  both  boys  and  men  would  be  little  better  than 
savages  and  brutes.  Behind  Nero,  an  arch  lad  has 
drawn  on  the  wall  a  criminal  hanging  on  a  gallows;  the 
probable  destiny  of  Nero  and  some  of  his  wicked  com- 
panions. On  the  rear  of  the  wall  is,  first,  an  urchin 
who  has  robbed  a  bird's  nest;  next,  another,  swinging  a 
buzzing  insect  which  he  has  impaled  at  the  end  of  a 
string,  and  then  a  group,  who  are  suspending  two  cats 
together  by  the  tails,  and  enjoying  their  agonies;  above 
these  is  an  infant  philosopher  throwing  a  cat  from  a  gar- 
ret window  in  imitation  of  those  adult  sages,  who  con- 
nect useless  animal  suffering  with  their  experiments. 
On  the  left  side  of  the  picture  is  a  poor,  inoffensive,  de- 
crepit woman,  who  is  insulted,  hooted  and  pelted  by  a 
gang  of  mischievous  children:  Thus  showing  that  inhu- 
manity is  the  same  odious  crime,  whether  practiced 
towards  the  inferior  animals,  or  towards  human  beings; 
that  those  who  are  guilty  of  the  one,  will,  if  they  have 


94 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


the  power,  be  equally  guilty  of  the  other,  and  confirming 
the  truth  of  the  proverb  that  "Cruelty  is  the  coward's 
vice." 


THE  SECOND  STAGE  OF  CRUELTY. 

"The  generous  steed  in  feeble  age, 

Subdued  by  labor  lies. 
And  mourns  a  cruel  master's  rage, 

While  nature  strength  denies. 

"The  tender  lamb  o'er-drove  and  faint, 

Amidst  expiring  throes, 
Bleats  forth  its  innocent  complaint, 

And  dies  beneath  the  blows. 

"Inhuman  wretches!  whence  proceeds 

This  coward  cruelty? 
What  interest  springs  from  barbarous  deeds? 

What  joy  from  misery?" 

The  spirit  of  inhumanity  exhibited  in  the  first  plate 
as  growing  up  in  youth,  is  in  this  ripened  in  manhood. 
The  hero  of  our  piece  has  become  a  hackney  coachman, 
a  profession  which  affords  him  an  opportunity  of  dis- 
playing his  brutal  disposition.  He  is  here  shown  cruelly 
beating  one  of  his  horses  for  not  rising,  though  in  its 
fall  by  oversetting  the  coach  it  has  had  the  misfortune  to 
break  its  leg.  The  lean,  galled  and  starved  appearance 
of  the  afflicted  creature,  is  a  manifest  proof  of  the  ha- 
bitual unkindness  of  its  master.  Pity  it  is,  that  such 
barbarous  wretches  should  be  suffered  to  live,  or,  at  all 
events,  to  have  any  control  over  sentient  beings.  How- 
ever, his  behavior  attracts  the  attention  of  a  passer  by, 
who  is  taking  the  number  of  his  coach  in  order  to  have 
him  punished.  The  humane  face  of  this  man,  opposed  to 
the  rigid  one  of  the  other,  affords  a  spirited  contrast, 
and  in  some  measure  brightens  the  scene.  On  the  right 
is  seen  one  of  those  inhuman  wretches,  who  are  so  often 
permitted  to  drive  cattle  to  and  from  the  slaughterhouse 


CRUELTY  IN  MATURITY.  95 

and  market.    He  is  beating  a  tender,  over-driven  lamb 
with  a  club-stick  for  not  going  on.  and  the  poor,  faint 
creature  is  dying  with  the  fatigue  and  blows,  with  its 
entrails  issuing  from  its  mouth.    Further  back  is  a  dray- 
man  or  cartman  drunk,  riding  on  the  shafts  of  his  cart 
the  wheels  of  which  are  running  over  a  child;  while  th- 
contents  of  the  casks  he  has  in  charge  are  being  spilled; 
and  for  both  of  these  accidents,  occasioned  by  the  crimi- 
nal neglect  of  the  cartman,  the  innocent  horse  will  as 
usual  be  half  murdered  by  his  guiltv  driver.    Still  fur- 
ther back  is  a  lubberly  fellow  riding  "upon  an  ass,  and  as 
it  the  beast  was  not  sufficiently  burthened,  he  has  taken 
up  a  porter  with  a  load  upon  his  back,  behind  him.  The 
overladen  animal  is  ready  to  sink  under  the  weight;  the 
foremost  rider  beating,  of  course,  while  the  man  (brute) 
behind  is  goading  him  with  a  pitch-fork.    In  the  back 
ground  is  seen  a  mob  baiting  and  worrying  a  hull  to  the 
great  terror  and  danger  of  the  passengers.    The  bills 
pasted  on  the  house,  on  the  left,  intimate  that  prize- 
fighting  horse-racing,  and  like  inhuman  sports  are  en 
couraged.  r 

Humanity  is  the  distinguishing  attribute  of  the  human 
species  yet  how  common  is  reckless,  and  even  studied 

oTr t  %■  r  If  Cmelty  0f  some  of  our  Pasti^s  is  fitting 
*L  I  *  *lS llSh-  ancestors>  Goths,  and  Scythians;  and 
does  not  the  epicure  even  torture  his  fellow-animal,  to 
?t  «Pt?n  VO!uPtuous  aPPetite?  People  called  civilized 
are  still  sanguinary  at  the  expense  of  all  that  is  ration- 
al, humane  and  religious. 


CRUEL!  Y  IN  MATURITY. 

My  conscience  has  a  thousand  several  tongues, 
And  every  tongue  brings  in  a  several  tale! 
And  every  tale  condemns  me  for  a  villian. 
Cruelty,  perjury,  in  the  highest  degree; 
■Ueceit,  stern  murder  in  the  direst  degree, 
A  1  several  crimes,  all  used  in  each  degree; 
Throng  to  the  bar  all  crying.  Guilty!  Guilty' 


96 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


I  shall  despair— No  creature  loves  me  living; 

And  when  I  die,  no  soul  shall  pity  me: 

Nay,  wherefore  should  they?  Shalcspeare . 

Continued  acts  of  barbarity  are  found  in  time  to  divest 
men  of  their  natural  feelings;  for  he  that  would  not  hesi- 
tate to  torture  and  destroy  a  helpless,  harmless  animal s 
would  not  but  through  fear  of  the  law,  scruple  to  torture 
and  murder  a  fellow  creature.  Nay,  the  laws  themselves 
are  not  able  to  prevent  such  horrid  crimes.  Asa  proof 
of  this,  Mr.  Hogarth  describes  the  hero  of  this  piece  as 
arrived  at  such  a  state  of  vice  as  to  be  past  feeling:  no 
tenderness  is  supposed  to  affect  him,  no  scene  of  distress 
to  move  him.  Let  us  then  take  a  view  of  cruelty  in 
perfection,  and  see  to  what  horrid  lengths  his  disposi- 
tion has  carried  him.  As  a  hackney  coachman  his  bar- 
barity did  not  pass  unnoticed,  his  treatment  to  his  horses 
became  notorious  and  was  attended  with  discharge  from 
his  place.  [The  skeleton  seen  in  the  back  ground,  of 
one  of  his  miserable  victims,  whom,  we  may  imagine, 
he  has  murdered  with  starvation  and  ill  treatment,  re- 
minds  us  of  this  portion  of  his  inhumanity.]  Being 
therefore  at  a  loss  for  maintenance,  his  wicked  turn  of 
mind  soon  led  him  to  robbery  upon  the  road,  which  is 
shown  by  the  pistols  and  watch  found  upon  him.  During 
the  time  he  followed  this  iniquitous  career,  we  are  to 
suppose  him  to  have  made  himself  acquainted  with  a 
young  woman  residing  in  the  country,  whom  he  deceived 
and  betrayed  by  his  false  protestations;  for  baseness  and 
duplicity  are  a  common  form  of  cruelty.  Having  gained 
the  affections  of  this  unfortunate  female,  he  wickedly 
prevails  on  her  to  desert  her  friends,  take  the  plate  and 
jewels,  and  elope  with  him  at  midnight.  She  keeps  the 
assignation  faithfully,  laden  with  valuables.  Having 
predetermined  to  screen  himself  from  detection  in  the 
robbery,  and  also  to  rid  himself  of  the  consequences  of 
his  seduction,  he  commits  the  horrid  deed.  She  strug- 
gles for  her  life  and  her  shrieks  alarm  the  family  from 
their  peaceful  slumbers.  They  rush  to  her  assistance, 
but  arrive  not  until  the  vital  spark  has  fled;  in  time 
however  to  secure  the  assassin.    In  a  letter  found  on 


CAUSES  AND  CRUELTY  OF  WAR. 


97 


him,  which  is  seen  lying  on  the  ground,  she  says,  "My 
conscience  flies  into  my  face,  as  often  as  I  think  of 
wronging  my  best  friends ;  yet  I  am  resolved  to  venture 
body  and  soul  to  do  as  you  would  have  me."  Her  con- 
fidence was  indeed  awfully  requited  by  the  unfeeling 
hypocrite.  By  this  fell  act,  however,  she  was  prevented 
from  enduring  that  immensity  of  wretchedness  and  des- 
pair, which  she  must  have  suffered,  had  she  lived  and 
become  the  wife  of  such  a  depraved  ruffian. 

Behold,  here,  him  who  had  no  feeling  for  others,  com- 
pelled at  last  to  feel  for  himself.  Confounded  by  the 
bloody  knife,  the  confiding  letter  and  all  the  various 
manifest  proofs  of  his  atrocity;  shuddering  at  the  pallid, 
lifeless  victim  of  his  lust,  avarice  and  reckless  cruelty; 
astounded  by  the  sights  and  cries  of  woe,  from  the  ago- 
nized and  horror-struck  parents,  relations  and  specta- 
tors; overwhelmed  with  the  remorse  of  his  own  con- 
science deluging  his  soul,  by  turns,  with  the  irreparable 
past,  the  horrible  present,  and  the  dreadful  and  inevitable 
future.  He  is  seized,  bound,  and  hurried  to  prison,  where 
we  may  conceive  him  awaiting  his  trial,  sentence  and 
punishment,  in  all  the  horrors  of  dismay,  which  are  the 
natural  consequences  of  his  atrocious  crimes. 


CAUSES  AND  CRUELTY  OF  WAR. 

^  The  motives  or  causes  of  war  are  innumerable:  I  men- 
tion only  a  few  of  the  chief.  Sometimes  the  ambition  of 
princes,  who  never  think  they  have  people  or  land  enough 
to  govern.  Sometimes  the  corruption  of  ministers,  who 
engage  their  master  in  a  war  in  order  to  stifle  or  divert 
the  clamor  of  their  subjects  against  their  evil  adminis- 
tration. Difference  of  opinion  has  cost  many  millions 
of  lives;  neither  are  any  wars  so  furious  and  bloody  or 
of  so  long  continuance,  as  those  occasioned  by  difference 
of  opinion,  especially  if  it  be  in  things  "indifferent. 
Sometimes  the  quarrel  between  two  princes  is  to  decide 
which  of  them  shall  dispossess  a  third  of  his  dominions, 
where  neither  of  them  pretend  to  any  right.  Sometimes 


06 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


one  prince  quarrels  with  another  for  fear  the  other  should 
quarrel  with  him.  Sometimes  war  is  entered  upon  be- 
cause the  enemy  is  too  strong;  asd  sometimes,  because 
he  is  too  weak.  Sometimes  our  neighhors  want  the  things 
which  we  have,  or  have  the  things  which  we  want,  and 
both  fight,  till  they  take  ours,  or  give  us  theirs.  It  is  a 
very  justifiable  cause  of  a  war,  to  invade  a  country  after 
the  people  have  been  wasted  by  famine,  destroyed  by 
pestilence,  or  embroiled  by  factions  among  themselves. 
It  is  justifiable  to  enter  into  a  war  against  our  nearest 
ally,  when  one  of  his  towns  lies  convenient  for  us,  or  a 
territory  of  land,  that  would  render  our  dominions  round 
and  compact,  If  a  prince  sends  forces  into  a  nation, 
where  the  people  are  poor  and  ignorant,  he  may  lawfully 
put  half  of  them  to  death,  and  make  slaves  of  the  rest, 
in  order  to  civilize  and  reduce  them  from  their  barbarous 
way  of  living.  It  is  a  very  kingly,  hcnorable,  and  fre- 
quent practice,  when  one  prince  desires  the  assistance  of 
another,  to  secure  him  against  an  invasion  that  the  as- 
sistant when  he  has  driven  out  the  invader,  should  seize 
on  the  dominions  himself,  and  kill,  imprison,  or  banish 
the  prince  he  came  to  relieve.  Alliance  by  blood,  or 
marriage,  is  a  frequent  cause  of  war  between  princes; 
and  the  nearer  their  kindred  is,  the  greater  their  disposi- 
tion to  quarrel.  Poor  nations  are  hungry,  and  rich  na- 
tions are  proud:  pride  and  hunger  will  ever  be  at  vari- 
ance. [How  many  of  these  causes  have  produced  the 
wars  between  the  white  men  and  the  Indians  /]  For  these 
reasons,  the  trade  of  a  soldier  is  held  most  honorable  of 
all  others;  because  a  soldier  is  a  Yahoo  [i.  e.,  human 
brute],  hired  to  kill,  in  cold  blood,  as  many  of  his  own 
species,  who  have  never  offended  him,  as  possibly  he 
can. 

Being  no  stranger  to  the  art  of  war,  I  gave  him  a  de- 
scription of  cannons,  culverins,  muskets,  carabines, 
pistols,  bullets,  powder,  swords,  bayonets,  battles,  sieges, 
retreats,  attacks,  undermines,  countermines,  bombard- 
ments, sea-fights,  ships  sunk  with  a  thousand  men,  twen- 
ty thousand  killed  on  each  side,  dying  groans,  limbs  fly- 
ing in  the  air,  smoke,  noise,  confusion  trampling  to  death 
under  horses'  feet,  flight,  pursuit,  victory;  fields  strewed 


THE  CRUELTY  OF  WAR. 


99 


with  carcasses,  left  for  food  to  the  dogs  and  wolves,  and 
birds  of  prey;  plundering,  stripping,  ravishing,  burning 
and  destroying.  I  computed,  that  in  the  long  war  with 
France,  wherein  the  greatest  powers  of  Christendom 
were  engaged,  about  a  million  of  Yahoos  might  have  been 
killed;  a  hundred  or  more  cities  taken,  and  five  times  as 
many  burnt  or  sunk.  And  to  set  forth  the  valor  of  my 
own  dear  countrymen,  I  assured  him,  "that  I  had  seen 
them  blow  up  a  hundred  enemies  at  once  in  a  siege,  and 
as  many  in  a  ship;  and  beheld  the  dead  bodies  drop  down 
in  pieces  from  the  clouds,  to  the  great  diversion  of  the 
spectators." 

I  was  going  on  to  more  particulars,  when  my  master 
commanded  me  silence.  He  said  "that  as  my  discourse 
had  increased  his  abhorence  of  our  whole  species,  so  he 
found  it  gave  him  a  disturbance  in  his  mind,  to  which  he 
was  wholly  a  stranger  before.  He  thought  his  ears,  be- 
ing used  to  such  abominable  words,  might  by  degrees  ad- 
mit them  with  less  detestation:  and  that  when  a  creature 
pretending  to  reason  could  be  capable  of  such  enormities, 
he  dreaded,  lest  the  corruption  of  that  faculty,  might  be 
worse  than  brutality  itself.  He  seemed  therefore  confi- 
dent, that  instead  of  reason,  we  were  only  possessed  of 
some  quality,  fitted  to  increase  our  natural  vices. " 

Swift's  Gulliver. 

It  would  perhaps  be  impossible,  by  the  most  labored 
argument,  or  forcible  eloquence,  to  show  the  absurd  in- 
justice and  horrid  cruelty  of  war  so  effectually,  as  by  this 
simple  exhibition  of  them  in  a  new  light:  with  war  in- 
cluding every  species  of  iniquity  and  eyery  art  of  destruc- 
tion, we  become  familiar  by  degrees  under  specious  terms, 
which  are  seldom  examined,  because  they  are  learned  at 
an  age,  in  which  the  mind  implicitly  receives  and  retains 
whatever  is  impressed;  thus,  when  one  man  murders 
another  to  gratify  his  lust  [avarice  or  hate],  we  shudder; 
but  when  one  man  murders  a  million  to  gratify  his  vani- 
ty, we  approve,  and  we  admire,  we  envy,  and  we  ap~ 
plaud,  If,  we  discover  that  most  of  the  wars  in  history 
have  been  commenced  for  such  causes,  and  carried  on  by 
such  means;  let  no  Swift  be  censured  for  too  much  de- 
basing his  species,  who  have  contributed' to  their  felicity 


100 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY* 


and  preservation,  by  stripping  off  the  veil  of  custom  and 
prejudice,  and  holding  up,  in  their  native  deformity,  the 
vices  by  which  they  become  wretched  and  the  arts  by 
which  they  are  destroyed* — Hawkesworth. 

Ah!  when  shall  reason's  intellectual  ray, 
Shed  o'er  the  moral  world  more  perfect  day  ? 
When  shall  that  gloomy  world  appear  no  more 
A  waste  wThere  desolating  tempests  roar  ? 
Where  savage  discord  howls  in  threatening  form; 
And  wild  ambition  leads  the  maddening  storm, 
Where  hideous  carnage  marks  his  dangerous  way, 
And  where  the  screaming  vulture  scents  his  prey? 
Ah!  come  blest  concord!  chase,  with  smiles  serene> 
The  hostile  passions  from  the  human  scene! 
May  glory's  lofty  path  be  found  afar 
From  agonizing  groans  and  crimson  war; 
And  may  the  ardent  mind  that  seeks  a  name, 
Claim  not  the  martial,  but  the  civic  fame! 

Miss  Williams. 


WHAT  A  CHARMING  THING'S  A  BATTLE! 

Trumpets  sounding,  drums  a  beating; 

Crack!  crick!  crack!  the  cannons  rattle* 
Every  heart  with  glory  heating. 
With  what  rapture  are  we  spying, 

From  the  van,  the  flank,  the  rear, 

Showering  through  the  smoky  air, 
Heads  and  limbs  and  bullets  flying! 
Then  the  groans  of  soldiers  dying 

Just  like  sparrows  as  it  were. 
At  each  pop,  hundreds  drop — 

Muskets,  rifles,  prittle,  prattle! 
Killed  and  wounded  lie  confounded, 

What  a  charming  thing's  a  battle! 

But  the  funniest  sport  of  all — 
Mid  sighing,  crying,  dying  moans, 
And  widows'  tears,  and  orphans'  groans; 


THE  CRUELTY  OP  WAR. 


101 


Is  when  to  close  attack  we  fall, 

With  broken  heads,  and  hearts,  and  bones; 
Like  mad  bulls,  each  other  butting, 
Shooting,  stabbing,  maiming,  cuttinor 

Horse  and  foot, 

All  go  to't, 
KilVs  the  word,  both  men  and  cattle, 

Fire  and  plunder! 

Blood  and  thunder, 
What  a  charming  thing's  a  battle! 

0  monstrous  wajr! 
After  the  brightest  conquest  what  remains 
Of  all  thy  glories?  For  the  vanquished — chains! 
For  the  proud  victor — what?  Alas!  to  reign 
O'er  desolated  nations — a  drear  waste 
By  one  man's  crime,  by  one  man's  lust  of  power 
Unpeopled!  naked  plains  and  ravaged  fields, 
Succeed  to  smiling  harvests  and  the  fruits, 
Of  peaceful  olive — luscious  fig  and  vine! 
Here,  rifled  temples  are  the  caverned  dens 
Of  savage  beasts,  or  haunt  of  birds  obscene; 
There,  populous  cities  blacken  in  the  sun, 
And  in  the  general  wreck  proud  palaces 
Lie  undistinguished  save  by  the  dun  smoke 
Of  recent  conflagration!  When  the  song 
Of  dear-bought  joy  with  many  a  triumph  swelled, 
Salutes  the  victor's  ear  and  sooths  his  pride, 
How  is  the  grateful  harmony  profaned 
With  the  sad  dissonance  of  virgins'  cries, 
Who  mourn  their  brothers  slain!    Of  matrons'  hoar, 
Who  clasp  their  withered  hands  and  fondly  ask 
With  iteration  shrill — their  slaughtered  sons! 
How  is  the  laurel's  verdure  stained  with  blood, 
And  soiled  with  widows'  [and  with  orphans']  tears! 

Hannah  More. 


(102) 


SERMON  ON  CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 

A  righteous  man  regardeth  the  life  of  his  beast. 

PROVERBS,  XII,  10. 

The  word  regard  is  of  two-fold  signification,  and  may 
either  apply  to  the  moral  or  to  the  intellectual  part  of 
our  nature.  In  the  one  application,  the  intellectual,  it 
is  the  regard  of  attention.  In  the  other,  the  moral,  it  is 
the  regard  of  sympathy,  or  kindness.  Our  argument  has 
to  do,  more  properly,  with  the  inertness  of  our  reflective 
faculties,  rather  than  with  the  incapacity  of  our  senses. 
It  is  in  behalf  of  animals,  and  not  of  animalcule,  that 
we  are  called  upon  to  address  you — not  of  that  count- 
less swarm,  the  agonies  of  whose  destruction  are  shroud- 
ed from  observation  by  the  vail  upon  the  sight;  but  of 
'hose  creatures  who  move  on  the  face  of  the  open  per- 
spective before  us,  and  not  as  the  others  in  a  region  of 
invisibles,  and  yet  whose  dying  agonies  are  shrouded 
almost  as  darkly  and  as  densely  from  general  observation, 
by  the  vail  upon  the  mind.  For  you  will  perceive,  that 
in  reference  to  the  latter  vail,  and  by  which  it  is  that 
what  is  out  of  sight  is  also  out  of  mind,  its  purpose  is 
accomplished,  whether  the  objects  which  are  disguised 
by  it  be  without  the  sphere  of  actual  vision,  or  beneath 
the  surface  of  possible  vision.  Now,  it  is  without  the 
sphere  of  your  actual,  although  not  beneath  the  surface 
of  your  possible  vision,  where  are  transacted  the  dread- 
ful mysteries  of  a  slaughter-house,  and  more  especially 
those  lingering  deaths  which  an  animal  has  to  undergo 
for  the  gratifications  of  a  refined  epicurism.  It  were 
surely  more  desirable  that  the  duties,  if  they  may  be  so 
called,  of  a  most  revolting  trade,  were  all  of  them  got 
over  with  the  least  possible  expense  of  suffering;  nor  do 
we  ever  feel  so  painfully  the  impression  of  a  lurking  can- 
nibalism in  our  nature,  as  when  we  think  of  the  intense 
study  which  has  been  given  to  the  connection  between 
modes  of  killing,  and  the  flavor  or  delicacy  of  those  viands 
which  are  served  up  to  mild,  and  pacific,  and  gentle 
looking  creatures,  who  form  the  grace  and  the  ornament 


SERMON  ON  CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS.  103 

of  our  polished  society.  One  is  almost  tempted  after 
all  to  look  upon  them  as  so  many  savages  in  di^nS 
and  so,  in  truth,  we  should,  but  for  the  ItrenL  of  S 
opiate  whose  power  and  whose  property  we  hive  iust en 
deavored  to  explain;  and  in  virtue  of  whichXCests 
of  an  entertainment  are  all  the  while  most  profoundly 
unconscious  of  the  horrors  of  that  preparatory  scene 
which  wen  before  it.  It  is  not,  therefore,  that7here  is 
hypocrisy  ,n  these  smiles  wherewith  they  look  so  be- 
nignly to  each  other.  It  is  not  that  there  is  deceit  in 
they-  words  or  their  accents  of  tenderness.  The  truth  is 
that  one  shriek  of  agony,  if  heard  from  without,  would 
cas  most  oppressive  gloom  over  this  scene  of  convi- 
vial  ty;  and  the  sight,  but  for  a  moment,  of  one  wretched 
creature  quivering  towards  death,  would  with  GoSon 
spell  dissipate  all  the  gacties  which  enliven  it  b 

In  the  chase  also,  and  the  fight,  amid  the  whole  elee 
and  fervency  of  the  tumultuous  enjoyment,  there  mi'S 
not  ln  one  single  bosom,  be  aught  so  fiendish  as  a  princi 
pie  of  naked  and  abstract  cruelty.  The  fear  whX  ves 
^lightning  speed  to  the  unhappy  animal;  the  h  Sin! 
ing  horrors  which,  in  the  progress  of  exhaustion  must 
gather  upon  its  flight;  its  gradually  sinkin-  enemies 
and  at  length  the  terrible  certainty  of  t£53e£SSS 
which  is  awaiting  it;  that  piteous  cry,  which  ti  e  eTr 

Z  ^m^meSfStingUish  amid  the  deafening  lamoAf 
the  blood-hounds,  as  they  spring  exultingly  upon  ?heir 
prey;  the  dread  massaeer  and  the  dying  LoSs  of  a 
creature  so  miserably  torn-all  this  weight  of  suffering 
we  admit,  is  not  once  sympathized  with;  but  it  is  n"^ 
haps  because  he  suffering  itself  is  not  once  though?of 
It  touches  not  the  sensibilities  of  the  heart;  but  iust 
because  it  is  never  present  to  the  notice  of  the  mind 
We  allow  that  the  hardy  followers  in  the  wild  romance 
of  this  occupation,  we  allow  them  to  be  reckless  of  pa 
but  this  is  not  rejoicing  in  pain.    Theirs  is  not  theP  de- 
light of  savage,  but  the  apathy  of  unreflecting  creatures 
It  is  something  else  in  the  spectacle  of  agony  which 

the  etw^TSUre+than  th°  ^  itself=  and  many S 
the  eje  which  ghstens  with  transport  at  the  fray  of  ani- 
mals  met  together  for  their  mutual  destruction,  and 


104 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


which  might  be  brought  to  weep,  if,  apart  from  all  the 
excitements  of  such  a  scene,  the  anguish  of  the  wounded 
or  dying  creatures  were  placed  nakedly  before  it.  There 
is  a  science  connected  with  the  fight,  which  has  dis- 
placed the  sensibilities  that  are  connected  with  its  ex- 
piring moans,  its  piteous  and  piercing  outcries,  its  cruel 
lacerations.  In  all  this  we  admit  the  utter  heedlessness 
of  pain;  but  we  are  not  sure  if  even  yet  there  be  aught 
so  hellishly  revolting  as  any  positive  gratification  in  the 
pain  itself — or  whether,  even  in  the  lowest  walks  of 
blackguardism  in  society,  it  do  not  also  hold,  that  when 
sufferings  even  unto  death  are  fully  in  sight,  the  pain  of 
these  sufferings  is  as  fully  out  of  mind. 

But  the  term  science,  so  strangely  applied  as  it  has 
been  in  the  example  now  quoted,  reminds  us  of  another 
variety  in  this  most  afflicting  detail.  Even  in  the  purely 
academic  walk  we  read  or  hear  of  the  most  appalling 
cruelties;  and  the  interest  of  that  philosophy  wherewith 
they  have  been  associated,  has  been  pleaded  in  mitigation 
of  them.  And  just  as  the  moral  debasement  incurred 
by  an  act  of  theft  is  somewhat  redeemed,  if  done  by  one 
of  science's  enamored  worshipers,  when,  overcome  by 
the  mere  passion  of  connoisseurship,  he  puts  forth  his 
hand  on  some  choice  specimen  of  most  tempting  and  ir- 
resisting  peculiarity — even  so  has  a  like  indulgence  been 
extended  to  certain  perpetrators  of  stoutest  and  most 
resolved  cruelty;  and  that  just  because  of  the  halo 
wherewith  the  glories  of  intellect  and  of  proud  discovery 
have  enshrined  them.  And  thus  it  is,  that,  bent  on  the 
scrutiny  of  nature's  laws,  there  are  some  of  our  race 
who  have  hardihood  enough  to  explore  and  elicit  them 
at  the  expense  of  dreadest  suffering — who  can  make  some 
quaking,  some  quivering  animal,  the  subject  of  their 
hapless  experiment — who  can  institute  a  questionary 
process  by  which  to  draw  out  the  secrets  of  its  constitu- 
tion, and,  like  inquisitors  of  old,  extract  every  reply 
by  an  instrument  of  torture — who  can  probe  their  un- 
faltering way  among  the  vitalities  of  a  system  which 
shrinks,  and  palpitates,  and  gives  forth,  at  every  move- 
ment of  their  steadfast  hand,  the  pulsations  of  deepest 
agony;  and  all,  perhaps,  to  ascertain  and  to  classify 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS.  105 

the  phenomena  of  sensation,  or  measure  the  tenacity  of 
animal  life,  by  the  power  and  exquisitencss  of  animal  en- 
durance.   And  still,  it  is  not.  because  of  all  this  vvretch- 
edness,  but  in  spite  of  it,  that  they  pursue  that  barba- 
rous occupation.    Even  here  it  is  possible,  that  there  is 
nought  so  absolutely  Satanic  as  delight  in  those  suffer- 
ings of  which  themselves  are  the  inllicters.    That  law 
of  emotion  by  which  the  sight  of  pain  calls  forth  sympa- 
thy, may  not  be  reversed  into  an  opposite  law,  by  which 
the  sight  of  pain  would  call  forth  satisfaction  or  plea- 
sure.   The  emotion  is  not  reversed— it  is  only  over- 
borne, in  the  play  of  other  emotions,  called  forth  by 
other  objects.    He  is  intent  on  the  science  of  those  phe- 
nomena which  he  investigates,  and  bethinks  not  himself 
of  the  sufferings  which  they  involve  to  the  unhappy  ani- 
mal.   So  far  from  the  sympathies  of  his  nature  being 
reversed  or  even  annihilated,  there  is  in  most  cases  an 
eifort,  and  of  great  strenuousness,  to  keep  them  down- 
and  his  heart  is  differently  affected  from  that  of  other 
men,  just  because  the  regards  of  his  mental  eye  are  dif- 
ferently pointed  from  those  of  other  men.    The  want  of 
natural  affection  forms  one  article  of  the  apostle's  in- 
dictment against  our  world;  and  certain  it  is,  that  the 
total  want  of  it  were  stigma  enough  for  the  designation 
of  a  monster.    The  mere  want  of  religion,  or  irrelio-ion 
is  enough  to  make  man  an  outcast  from  his  God.  Even 
to  the  most  barbarous  of  our  kind  you  apply,  not  the 
term  of  anhhumamty,  but  of  inhumanity—not  the  term 
of  anfcsensibility:  no,  you  hold  it  enough  for  the  purpose 
of  branding  him  for  general  execration,  that  you  con- 
victed  him  of  complete  and  total  insensibility     He  is 
regaled  it  is  true,  by  a  spectacle  of  agony-but  not  be- 
cause  of  the  agony.    It  is  something  else,  therewith  as- 
sociated, which  regales  him.    But  still  he  is  rightfully 

J^IZA  0wTSt  emPhatic  denunciation,  not  because 
regaled  by,  but  because  regardless  of  the  agony.  We  do 
not  feel  ourselves  to  be  vindicating  the  cruel  man,  when 
we  affirm  it  to  be  not  altogether  certain,  whether  he  re- 
joices i„  the  extinction  of  life;  for  we  count  it  a  deep 
atrocity  that,  unlike  to  the  righteous  man  of  our  text, 
he  simply  does  not  regard  the  life  of  a  beast.    You  may 


106 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


perhaps  have  been  accustomed  to  look  upon  the  negative 
of  character,  as  making  up  a  sort  of  neutral  or  midway 
innocence.  But  this  is  a  mistake.  Unfeeling  is  but  a 
negative  quality;  and  yet,  we  speak  of  an  unfeeling  mon- 
ster. It  is  thus  that  even  the  profound  experimentalist, 
whose  delight  is  not  in  the  torture  which  he  inflicts,  but 
in  the  truth  which  he  elicits  thereby,  may  become  an 
object  of  keenest  reprobation;  not  because  he  was  pleased 
with  suffering,  but  simply  because  he  did  not  pity  it — 
not  because  the  object  of  pain,  if  dwelt  upon  by  him, 
would  be  followed  up  by  any  other  emotion  than  that 
which  is  experienced  by  other  men,  but  because,  intent 
on  the  prosecution  of  any  other  object,  it  was  not  so 
dwelt  upon.  It  is  found  that  the  eclat  even  of  brilliant 
discoveries  does  not  shield  him  from  the  execrations  of 
a  public,  who  can  yet  convict  him  of  nothing  more  than 
simply  of  negatives — of  heedlessness,  of  harshness,  of 
looking  upon  the  agonies  of  a  sentient  creature  without 
regard,  and  therefore  without  sensibility.  The  true 
principle  of  his  condemnation  is,  that  he  ought  to  have 
regarded.  It  is  not  that,  in  virtue  of  a  different  organic 
structure,  he  feels  differently  from  others,  when  the  same 
simple  object  is  brought  to  bear  upon  him.  But  it  is, 
that  he  resolutely  kept  that  object  at  a  distance  from  his 
attention,  or  rather,  that  he  steadily  kept  his  attention 
away  from  the  object;  and  that,  in  opposition  to  all  the 
weight  of  remonstrance  which  lies  in  the  tremors,  and 
the  writhings,  and  the  piteous  outcries,  of  agonized  na- 
ture. Had  we  obtained  for  these  the  regards  of  his 
mind,  the  relent ings  of  his  heart  might  have  followed. 
His  is  riot  an  anomalous  heart;  and  the  only  way  in 
which  he  can  brace  it  into  sternness,  is  by  barricading 
the  avenue  which  leads  to  it.  That  faculty  of  attention 
which  might  have  opened  the  door,  through  which  suf- 
fering without  finds  its  wajr  to  sympathy  within,  is  oth- 
erwise engaged;  md  the  precise  charge,  on  which  either 
morality  can  rightfully  condemn,  or  humanity  be  offend- 
ed, is,  that  he  wills  to  have  it  so. 

But  these  introductory  remarks,  although  they  lead,  I 
do  think,  to  some  most  important  suggestions  for  the 
management  of  the  evil,  yet  they  serve  not  to  abate  its 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


107 


appalling  magnitude.  Man  is  the  direct  agent  of  a  wido 
and  continual  distress  to  the  lower  animals,  and  tho 
question  is,  can  any  method  be  devised  for  its  alleviation? 
On  this  subject  that'  scriptural  image  is  strikingly  rea- 
lized, "The  whole  inferior  creation  groaning  and  tra- 
vailing together  in  pain,,,  because  of  him.  It  signifies 
not  to  the  substantive  amount  of  the  suffering,  whether 
this  be  prompted  by  the  hardness  of  his  heart,  or  only 
permitted  through  the  heedlessness  of  his  mind.  In  cither 
way  it  holds  true,  not  only  that  the  arc h-devourer  man 
stands  preeminent  over  the  fiercest  children  of  the 
wilderness  as  an  animal  of  prey,  but  that  for  his  lordly 
and  luxurious  appetite,  as  well  as  for  his  service  or 
merest  curiosity  and  amusement,  nature  must  be  ran- 
sacked throughout  all  her  elements.  Rather  than  forego 
the  veriest  gratifications  of  vanity,  he  will  wring  them 
from  the  anguish  of  wretched  and  ill-fated  creatures;  and 
whether  for  the  indulgence  of  his  barbaric  sensuality, 
or  barbaric  splendor,  can  stalk  paramount  over  the  suf- 
ferings of  that  prostrate  creation  which  has  been  placed 
beneath  his  feet.  That  beauteous  domain  whereof  he 
has  been  constituted'  the  terrestrial  sovereign,  gives  out 
so  many  blissful  and  benignant  aspects;  and  whether  we 
look  to  its  peaceful  lakes,  or  its  flowery  landscapes,  or 
its  evening  skies,  or  to  all  that  soft  attire  which  over- 
spreads the  hills  and  the  valleys,  lighted  up  by  smiles  of 
sweetest  Sunshine,  and  where  animals  disport  themselves 
in  all  the  exuberance  of  gaiety — this  surely  were  a  more 
befitting  scene  for  the  rule  of  clemency,  than  for  the  iron 
rod  of  a  murderous  and  remorseless  tyrant.  But  the 
present  is  a  mysterious  world  wherein  we  dwell.  It  still 
bears  much  upon  its  materialism  of  the  impress  of  Para- 
dise. But  a  breath  from  the  air  of  Pandemonium  has 
gone  over  its  living  generations.  And  so  "the  fear  of 
man,  and  the  dread  of  man,  is  now  upon  every  beast  of 
the  earth,  and  upon  every  fowl  of  the  air,  upon  all  that 
moveth  upon  the  earth,  and  upon  all  the  fishes  in  the 
sea;  into  man's  hands  are  they  delivered:  every  moving 
thing  that  liveth  is  meat  for  him;  yea,  even  as- the  green 
herbs,  there  have  been  given  to  him  all  things."  Such 
is  the  extent  of  his  jurisdiction,  and  with  most  full  and 


108  SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY 

wanton  license  has  he  reveled  among  its  privileges.  The 
whole  earth  labors  and  is  in  violence  because  of  his  cru- 
elties; and,  from  the  amphitheater  of  sentient  nature, 
there  sounds  in  fancy's  ear  the  bleat  of  one  wide  and 
universal  suffering — a  dreadful  homage  to  the  power  of 
nature's  constituted  lord. 

These  sufferings  are  really  felt.  The  beasts  of  the 
field  are  not  so  many  automata  [machines]  without  sensa- 
tion, and  just  so  constructed  as  to  give  forth  all  the 
natural  signs  and  expressions  of  it.  Nature  hath  not 
practiced  this  universal  deception  upon  our  species. 
These  poor  animals  just  look,  and  tremble,  and  give 
forth  the  very  indications  of  suffering  that  we  do.  Theirs 
is  the  distinct  cry  of  pain.  Theirs  is  the  unequivocal 
plrysiognomy  of  pain.  They  put  on  the  same  aspect  of 
terror  on  the  demonstrations  of  a  menaced  blow.  They 
exhibit  the  same  distortions  of  agony  after  the  infliction 
of  it.  The  bruise,  or  the  burn,  or  the  fracture,  or  the 
deep  incision,  or  the  fierce  encounter  with  one  of  equal 
or  superior  strength,  just  affects  them  similarly  to  our- 
selves. Their  blood  circulates  as  ours.  They  have 
pulsations  in  various  parts  of  the  body  like  ours.  They 
sicken,  and  they  grow  feeble  with  age,  and,  finally,  they 
die  just  as  we  do.  They  possess  the  same  feelings;  and 
what  exposes  them  to  like  suffering  from  another  quar- 
ter, they  possess  the  same  instincts  with  our  own  species. 
The  lioness  robbed  of  her  whelps  causes  the  wilderness 
to  ring  aloud  with  the  proclamation  of  her  wrongs;  or 
the  bird  whose  little  household  has  been  stolen,  fills  and 
saddens  all  the  grove  with  melodies  of  deepest  pathos. 
All  this  is  palpable  even  to  the  general  and  unlearned 
eye;  and  when  the  physiologist  lays  open  the  recesses  of 
their  system  by  means  of  that  scalpel,  under  whose  ope- 
ration they  just  shrink  and  are  convulsed  as  any  living 
subject  of  our  own  species,  there  stands  forth  to  view 
the  same  sentient  apparatus,  and  furnished  with  the 
same  conductors  for  the  transmission  of  feeling  to  every 
minutest  pore  upon  the  surface.  Theirs  is  unmixed  and 
unmitigated  pain — the  agonies  of  martyrdom,  without 
the  alleviation  of  the  hopes  and  the  sentiments,  whereof 
they  are  incapable.    When  they  lay  them  down  to  die 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


109 


their  only  fellowship  is  with  suffering,  for  in  the  prison- 
house  of  their  beset  and  bounded  faculties,  there  can  no 
relief  be  afforded  by  communion  with  other  interests  or 
other  things.  The  attention  does  not  lighten  their  dis- 
tress as  it  does  that  of  man,  by  carrying  off  his  spirit 
from  that  existing  pungency  and  pressure  which  might 
else  be  overwhelming.  There  is  but  room  in  their  mys- 
terious economy  for  one  inmate;  and  that  is,  the  absorb- 
ing sense  of  their  own  single  and  concentrated  anguish. 
And  so  in  that  bed  of  torment,  whereon  the  wounded 
animal  lingers  and  expires,  there  is  an  unexplored  depth 
and  intensity  of  suffering  which  the  poor  dumb  animal 
itself  can  not  tell,  and  against  which  it  can  offer  no  re- 
monstrance; an  untold  and  unknown  amount  of  wretch- 
edness, of  which  no  articulate  voice  gives  utterance. 
But  there  is  an  eloquence  in  its  silence;  and  the  very 
shroud  which  disguises  it,  only  serves  to  aggravate  its 
horrors. 

To  obtain  the  regards  of  man's  heart  in  behalf  of  the 
lower  animals,  we  should  strive  to  draw  the  regards  of 
his  mind  towards  them.  We  should  avail  ourselves  of 
the  close  alliance  that  obtains  between  the  regards  of  his 
attention,  and  those  of  his  sympathy.  For  this  purpose,, 
we  should  importunately  ply  him  with  the  objects  of  suf- 
fering, and  thus  call  up  its  respondent  emotion  of  sym- 
pathy, that  among  the  other  objects  which  have  hitherto 
engrossed  his  attention,  and  the  other  desires  or  emotions 
which  have  hitherto  lorded  it  over  the  compassion  of  his 
nature  and  overpowered  it;  this  last  may  at  length  be 
restored  to  its  legitimate  play,  and  reinstated  in  all  its 
legitimate  preeminence  over  the  other  affections  or  appe- 
tites which  belong  to  him.  It  affords  a  hopeful  view  of 
our  cause,  that  so  much  can  be  done  by  the  mere  obtru- 
sive presentation  of  the  object  to  the  notice  of  society. 
It  is  a  comfort  to  know,  that  in  this  benevolent  warfare 
we  have  to  make  head,  not  so  much  against  the  cruelty 
of  the  public,  as  against  the  heedlessness  of  the  public; 
that  to  hold  forth  a  right  view,  is  the  way  to  call  forth  a 
right  sensibility;  and,  that  to  assail  the  seat  of  any  emo- 
tion, our  likeliest  process  is  to  make  constant  and  con- 
spicuous exhibition  of  the  object  which  is  fitted  to  awaken 
11 


no 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


it.  Our  text  taken  from  the  profoundest  book  of  experi- 
mental wisdom  in  the  world,  keeps  clear  of  every  question- 
able or  casuistical  dogma;  and  rests  the  whole  cause  of 
the  inferior  animals  on  one  moral  element,  which  is,  in 
respect  of  principle;  and  on  one  practical  method,  which 
is,  in  respect  of  efficacy,  unquestionable:  "A  righteous 
man  regardeth  the  life  of  his  beast. "  Let  a  man  be  but 
righteous  in  the  general  and  obvious  sense  of  the  word, 
and  let  the  regard  of  his  attention  be  but  directed  to  the 
case  of  the  inferior  animals,  and  then  the  regard  of  his 
sympathy  will  be  awakened  to  the  full  extent  at  which  it 
is  either  duteous  or  desirable.  Still  it  may  be  asked  to 
what  extent  will  the  duty  go?  and  our  reply  is  that  we 
had  rather  push  the  duty  forward  than  define  the  extreme 
termination  of  it.  Yet  we  foresee  not  aught  so  very  ex- 
treme as  the  abolition  of  animal  food;  but  we  do  foresee 
the  indefinite  abridgment  of  all  that  cruelty  which  sub- 
serves the  gratifications  of  a  base  and  selfish  epicurism. 
We  think  that  a  Christian  and  humanized  society  will  at 
length  lift  their  prevalent  voice,  for  the  least  possible  ex- 
pense of  suffering  to  all  the  victims  of  a  necessary 
slaughter — for  a  business  of  utmost  horror  being  also  a 
business  of  utmost  dispatch— for  the  blow,  in  short,  of 
an  instant  extermination,  that  not  one  moment  might 
elapse  between  a  state  of  pleasurable  existence  and  a  state 
of  profound  unconsciousness.  Again,  we  do  not  foresee, 
but  with  the  perfection  of  the  two  sciences  of  anatomy 
and  physiology,  the  abolition  of  animal  experiments;  but 
we  do  foresee  a  gradual,  and,  at  length,  a  complete  aban- 
donment of  the  experiments  of  illustration,  which  are  at 
present  a  thousand-fold  more  numerous  than  the  experi- 
ments of  humane  discovery. 

The  institution  of  a  yearly  sermon  against  cruelty  to 
animals,  is  of  itself  a  likely  enough  expedient,  that  might 
at  least  be  of  some  auxiliary  operation,  along  with  other 
and  more  general  causes,  toward  such  an  awakening.  It 
is  not  by  one,  but  by  many  successive  appeals,  that  the 
cause  of  justice  and  mercy  to  the  brute  creation  will  at 
length  be  practically  carried.  It  is  a  subject  on  which 
the  public  do  not  require  so  much  to  be  instructed,  as  to 
be  reminded;  to  have  the  regard  of  their  attention  di- 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


Ill 


rected  again  and  again  to  the  sufferings  of  poor  helpless 
creatures,  that  the  regard  of  their  sympathy  might  at 
length  be  effectually  obtained  for  them.  This,  then,  is  a 
cause  to  which  the  institution  of  an  anniversary  pleading, 
in  its  favor,  is  most  precisely  and  peculiarly  adapted. 

Yet  we  are  loath  to  quit  our  subject  without  one  appeal 
more  in  behalf  of  those  poor  sufferers,  who,  unable  to 
advocate  their  own  cause,  possess,  on  that  very  account, 
a  more  imperative  claim  on  the  exertions  of  their  advo- 
cate. 

And  first,  it  may  have  been  felt  that,  by  the  way  in 
which  we  have  attempted  to  resolve  cruelty  into  its  ele- 
ments, we  instead  of  launching  rebuke  against  it,  have 
only  devised  a  palliation  for  its  gross  and  shocking  enor- 
mity. But  it  is  not  so.  It  is  true,  we  count  the  enormity 
to  lie  mainly  in  the  heedlessness  of  pain;  but  then  we 
charge  this  flagrantly  enormous  thing,  not  on  the  mere 
desperadoes  and  barbarians  of  our  land,  but  on  the  men 
and  the  women  of  general,  and  even  of  cultivated  and 
high  bred  society.  Instead  of  stating  cruelty  to  be  what 
it  is  not,  and  then  confining  the  imputation  of  it  to  the 
outcast  few,  we  hold  it  better,  and  practically  far  more 
important,  to  state  what  cruelty  really  is,  and  then  fasten 
the  imputation  of  it  on  the  common  place  and  the  com- 
panionable many.  Those  outcasts  to  whom  you  would 
restrict  the  condemnation,  are  not  at  present  within  the 
reach  of  our  voice.  But  you  are;  and  it  lies  with  you  to 
confer  a  ten-fold  greater  boon  on  the  inferior  creation, 
than  if  all  barbarous  sports,  and  if  all  bloody  experiments 
were  forthwith  put  an  end  to0  It  is  at  the  bidding  of 
your  collective  will  to  save  those  countless  myriads  who 
are  brought  to  the  regular  and  daily  slaughter,  all  the 
difference  between  a  gradual  and  instant  death.  And 
there  is  a  practice  realized  in  every-day  life,  which  you 
can  put  down — a  practice  which  strongly  reminds  us  of 
a  ruder  age  that  has  long  gone  by— when  even  beauteous 
and  high-born  ladies  could  partake  in  the  dance,  and  the 
song,  and  the  festive  chivalry  of  barbaric  castles,  un- 
mindful of  all  the  piteous  and  the  pining  agony  of  dun- 
geoned prisoners  below.  We  charge  a  like  unmindfulness 
on  the  present  generation.    We  know  not  whether  those 


112 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


wretched  animals  whose  still  sentient  frameworks  are 
under  process  of  ingenious  manufacture  for  the  epicurism 
or  the  splendor  of  your  coming  entertainment, — we  know 
not  whether  they  are  now  dying  by  inches  in  your  own 
subterranean  keeps,  or  through  the  subdivided  industry 
of  our  commercial  age,  are  now  suffering  all  the  horrors 
of  their  protracted  agony,  in  the  prison-house  of  some 
distant  street  where  this  dreadful  trade  is  carried  on. 
But  truly  it  matters  nought  to  our  argument,  ye  heedless 
sons  and  daughters  of  gaeity!  We  speak  not  of  the  daily 
thousands  who  hare  to  die  that  man  live;  but  of  those 
thousands  who  have  to  die  more  painfully,  just  that  man 
may  live  more  luxuriously.  We  speak  to  you  of  the  art 
and  the  mystery  of  the  killing  trade — from  which  it  would 
appear,  that  not  alone  the  delicacy  of  the  food,  but  even 
its  appearance,  is,  among  the  connoisseurs  of  a  refined 
epicurism,  the  matter  of  skfllful  and  scientific  computa- 
tion. There  is  a  sequence,  it  would  appear — there  *is  a 
sequence  between  an  exquisite  death,  and  an  exquisite  or 
a  beautiful  preparation  of  cookery;  and  just  in  the  ordi- 
nary way  that  art  avails  herself  of  the  other  sequence  of 
philosophy, — the  first  term  is  made  sure,  that  the  second 
term  might,  according  to  the  metaphysic  order  of  causa- 
tion, follow  in  its  train.  And  hence  we  are  given  to  un- 
derstand, hence  the  cold-blooded  ingenuities  of  that  pre- 
vious and  preparatory  torture  which  oft  is  undergone 
both  that  man  might  be  feasted  with  a  finer  relish,  and 
that  the  eyes  of  man  might  be  feasted  and  regaled  with 
a  finer  spectacle.  The  atrocities  of  the  anatomist  and 
the  naturalist  have  been  blazoned  before  the  eye  of  a 
British  public;  but  this  is  worse  in  the  fearful  extent  and 
magnitude  of  the  evil — truly  worse  than  a  thousand 
Majendies.  His  is  a  cruel  luxury,  but  it  is  the  luxury  of 
intellect.  Yours  is  both  a  cruel  and  a  sensual  luxury: 
and  you  have  positively  nought  to  plead  for  it  but  the 
most  worthless  and  ignoble  appetites  of  our  nature. 

But,  secondly,  and  if  possible  to  secure  your  kindness 
for  our  cause,  let  me  offer  to  your  notice  the  bright  and 
the  beautiful  side  of  it.  I  would  bid  you  think  of  all 
that  fond  and  pleasing  imagery,  which  is  associated  even 
with  the  lower  animals,  when  they  become  the  objects  of 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


113 


benevolent  care,  which  at  length  ripens  into  a  strong  and 
cherished  affection  for  them — as  when  the  worn-out  horse 
is  permitted  to  gaze,  and  be  still  the  favorite  of  all  the 
domestics  through  the  remainder  of  his  life;  or  the  old 
and  shaggy  house-dog  that  has  now  ceased  to  be  service- 
able, is  nevertheless  sure  of  its  regular  meals,  and  a  de- 
cent funeral;  or  when  an  adopted  inmate  of  the  house- 
hold is  claimed  as  property,  or  as  the  object  of  decided 
partiality,  by  some  one  or  other  of  the  children;  or, 
finally,  when  in  the  warmth  and  comfort  of  the  evening 
fire,  one  or  more  of  these  home  animals  take  their  part 
in  the  living  group  that  is  around  it,  and  their  very 
presence  serves  to  complete  the  picture  of  a  blissful  and 
smiling  family.  Such  relationships  with  the  inferior  crea- 
tures, supply  many  of  our  finest  associations  of  tender- 
ness, and  give,  even  to  the  heart  of  man,  some  of  its 
simplest  yet  sweetest  enjoyments.  He  even  can  find  in 
these,  some  compensation  for  the  dread  and  the  disqui- 
etude wherewith  his  bosom  is  agitated  amid  the  fiery  con- 
flicts of  infuriated  men.  When  he  retires  from  the 
stormy  element  of  debate,  and  exchanges,  for  the  vindic- 
tive glare,  and  the  hideous  discords  of  that  outcry  which 
he  encounters  among  his  fellows — when  these  are  ex- 
changed for  the  honest  welcome  and  the  guileless  regards 
of  those  creatures  who  gambol  at  his  feet,  he  feels  that 
even  in  the  society  of  the  brutes,  in  whose  hearts  there 
is  neither  care  nor  controversy,  he  can  surround  himself 
with  a  better  atmosphere  far,  than  that  in  which  he 
breathes  among  the  companionships  of  his  own  species. 
Here  he  can  rest  himself  from  the  fatigues  of  that  moral 
tempest  which  has  beat  upon  him  so  violently;  and,  in 
the  play  of  kindness  with  these  poor  irrationals,  his 
spirit  can  forget  for  awhile  all  the  injustice  and  ferocity 
of  their  boasted  lords. — Thomas  Chalmers, 


(114) 


THE  ISLAND  OF  INNOCENCE. 

Friend,  on  thy  simple  isle,  in  fancy's  eye, 

Envying  I  often  look,  and  often  sigh; 

In  fancy  rove  thy  small  domain  by  day, 

And,  pleased,  with  thee  in  nightly  visions  stray; 

Behold  thee  happy  at  thy  wonted  toil, 

And  mark  the  blossoms  of  a  fruitful  soil: 

While  at  thy  side  thy  Julia  plants  the  ground, 

With  all  her  little  progeny  around; 

Who  study  shrubs  and  flowers  with  eager  eyes, 

And  learn  of  simple  nature  to  be  ivise. 

Pleased  to  explore  the  insect  world,  they  rove, 

Tribes  of  the  flood,  and  minstrels  of  the  grove; 

With  all  the  varying  species  of  the  field. 

Whose  forms  and  lives  delight,  and  wisdom  yield; 

Display  the  page  of  Providence's  plan, 

That  shows  his  wondrous  works  to  wondering  man. 

No  wish  is  theirs  (forbid  it  Heaven!)  to  hurt, 
To  wound,  and  murder  a  poor  wretch  in  sport; 
To  lift  the  tube  of  death,  with  hostile  eye, 
And  dash  a  fluttering  victim  from  his  sky; 
To  bait  with  writhing  worms  the  barbarous  hook 
And  drag  the  finny  nation  from  their  brook: 
Justly  forbid  the  cruelty  to  know, 
And  gather  pleasure  from  the  pangs  of  woe! 

Blessed  on  their  boughs,  the  squirrel  tribes  they  see, 
And  call  the  hungry  urchins  from  their  tree, 
Who,  fearless,  hastening  at  the  kind  command, 
Fly  to  their  food,  and  court  th'  extended  hand; 
Now  scud  in  playful  gambols  o'er  the  plain, 
And,  fully  feasted,  seek  their  groves  again. 

And  now  they  beckon  to  the  feathered  throng; 
Forth  fly,  in  flocks,  the  little  bands  of  song: 
They  hop,  and  chirp,  and  flutter  round  each  head, 
Pleased  to  be  called,  and  anxious  to  be  fed. 


THE  ISLAND  OF  INNOCENCE. 


115 


At  length  content,  they  flicker  to  their  spray, 
Adjust  their  plumes,  and  pour  the  thankful  lay. 

Now,  happy,  to  the  stream  they  haste  to  feed, 
With  liberal  hand,  the  little  finny  breed: 
Fearless  of  danger,  lo,  the  sportive  fry, 
Mount  to  the  water's  brim  with  watchful  eye, 
And  leaping  oft  as  urging  hunger  calls, 
Meet  the  dropped  crumb,  and  catch  it  ere  it  falls. 
Such  are  the  blisses  of  thy  girls  and  boys 
And  such  the  blisses  innocence  enjoys. 

Oh.  when  will  freemen  list  to  reason's  voice, 

And,  changed,  no  more  in  cruelty  rejoice? 

How  nobler  thus  t'  address  the  harmless  hare: 

"Child  of  the  field,  0  come  beneath  my  care; 

Safe  in  thy  lonely  slumber  nass  the  clay, 

Along  the  moonlight  hills  in  safety  stray; 

When  Heaven's  kind  bounty  made  those  valleys  mine, 

Heaven  made  the  freedom  of  those  valleys  thine." 

How  nobler  to  the  winter's  bird  to  say, 

"Poor  stranger,  welcome  from  thy  stormy  way, 

Drop  in  my  groves,  enjoy  the  tepid  springs, 

And  lodged  in  peace,  repose  thy  wearied  wings; 

The  food  and  shelter  of  my  valleys  share: 

Like  me,  a  child  of  Providence's  care." 

How  nobler  to  the  finny  tribe  to  say, 

"Your's  be  the  rills  that  'midst  my  pastures  stray; 

The  Power  who  gave  to  mortals  every  good, 

Forgot  not  yours,  his  infants  of  the  flood." 

Humanity,  how  few  thy  merits  see! 

How  scarce  the  altars  that  are  rais'd  to  thee! 

Nymph  of  the  tender  heart;  and  melting  eye, 

Vain  o'er  the  savage  million  is  the  sigh! 

0  could  thy  gentle  spirit  more  impart 

Of  softness,  sweetness  to  the  human  heart! 

But  lo,  by  cruel  nature  led  astray, 

The  ruder  passions  rule  with  boisterous  sway; 

Drowned  is  thy  voice — a  zephyr's  sigh — no  more! 

The  murmering  rill  'midst  ocean's  mighty  roar! 


116 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


0  give  the  history  of  our  horrid  deeds; 
Proclaim  how  love  laments,  and  friendship  bleeds! 
How  virtue  pines,  how  merit  hides  the  head, 
And  pity  steals  to  tombs  to  mourn  the  dead; 
Paint  all  the  horrors  of  domestic  strife, 
And  give  the  gilded  snares  of  polished  life; 
Tell  tales  of  fortune,  at  whose  tinsel  shrine, 
Fools  daily  kneel,  and  for  her  favor  pine; 
Who,  when  she  yields,  means  only  to  beguile — 
Fate  in  her  hand,  and  ruin  in  her  smile. 

O  paint  our  dungeons,  where,  with  putrid  breath, 
The  wretch,  desponding,  pants,  and  sighs  for  death! 
Paint  the  poor  felon,  doomed,  ah!  doomed  to  die, 
Wan  the  pale  cheek,  and  horror-struck  the  eye; 
With  languid  limbs  that  droop  to  earth  in  pain, 
Pressed,  loaded,  laboring  with  a  clanking  chain; 
While,  on  the  stillness  of  the  midnight  air, 
Sad  moans  the  voice  of  misery  and  despair: 
Paint  all  the  horrors  of  the  midnight  shade, 
Theft's  iron  crow,  and  murder's  reeking  blade, 
Paint  the  poor  objects  that  we  hourly  meet, 
The  wrecks  of  beauty  crowding  every  street; 
Daughters  of  innocence,  ere  demon  art 
Won  on  the  weakness  of  too  soft  a  heart; 
And  doomed  to  infamy  the  tender  kiss, 
Due  to  pure  love  alone  and  wedded  bliss. 
Paint  courts,  whose  sorceries,  too  seducing,  bind 
In  chains,  in  shameful  slavish  chains,  the  mind; 
Courts,  where  unblushing  flattery  finds  the  way, 
And  casts  a  cloud  o'er  truth's  eternal  ray. 

John  Wolcott. 


(117) 


EDUCATION. 

"Wanton,  and,  what  is  worse,  studied  cruelty  to  brutes, 
is  certainly  wrong." — *Paley. 

Idleness  or  curiosity  sometimes  leads  children  to  a 
cruelty  in  their  treatment  of  such  animals  as  are  placed 
within  their  power;  dogs,  cats,  birds,  butterflies,  &c, 
often  suffer  from  their  inhumanity.  But  when  they  seem 
inclined  to  such  cruelty,  let  them  be  carefully  watched, 
and  let  every  means  be  used  to  awake  their  hearts  to 
generous  sensibility.  Allow  them  to  keep  tame  birds, 
dogs,  &c,  only  on  account  of  their  using  them  with  ten- 
derness. Perhaps  this  unhappy  disposition  to  cruelty  is 
occasioned,  or  at  least  fostered  by  people's  laughing 
when  they  behold  the  impotent  efforts  of  children  to  do 
mischief,  and  often  going  so  far  as  even  to  encourage 
them  in  maltreating  those  creatures  which  are  within 
their  reach.  We  entertain  them,  too,  with  stories  of 
fighting  and  battles;  and  represent  characters  distin- 
guished for  atrocious  acts  of  inhumanity  as  great  and 
illustrious.  But  let  such  practice  be  carefully  refrained 
from,  if  you  wish  to  inspire  your  children  with  generous 
and  humane  sentiments.  Teach  them  gentleness  and 
tenderness,  not  only  to  brute  animals  but  also  to  servants 
sand  companions.  Inspire  them  with  a  disposition  to 
J  please  and  oblige  all  with  whom  they  are  conversant; 
next,  teach  them  how  to  express  that  disposition  in  the 
most  becoming  manner.  Let  boisterous  roughness, 
J  haughty  contempt  of  others,  censoriousness,  impertinent 
j raillery,  and  a  spirit  of  contradiction,  be  banished  from 
}their  temper  and  behavior.  At  the  same  time  beware 
[of  leading  them  to  regard  the  mere  forms  of  intercourse 
as  a  matter  of  the  highest  importance.  Remember  that 
genuine  good  breeding  is  only  an  easy  and  graceful  way 
!of  expressing  good  sense  and  benevolence  in  our  con- 
versation and  deportment. — Encyclopedia  Britannica. 

By  universal  education  only  can  the  increase  of  vice 
land  crime,  of  pauperism  and  misery,  be  efficiently 
(checked.    The  inmates  of  the  jails,  hospitals,  prisons, 


118 


SPIRIT  OP  HUMANITY. 


penitentiaries,  and  of  the  haunts  of  vice  and  dissipation 
are  generally  composed  of  the  uninstructed  or  the  badly 
instructed;  and  is  it  not  unjust  and  cruel  in  the  extreme 
for  the  influential  and  enlightened  to  punish  the  effects 
of  that  ignorance  which  their  own  criminal  neglect  per- 
mits? The  children  of  the  industrious  classes  are  in 
very  many  instances  growing  up  an  opprobrium  to  the 
legislatures,  a  burden  and  a  curse  to  themselves,  their 
parents,  and  their  country,  for  want  of  those  facilities  of 
education  which,  if  afforded  by  government,  would  ren- 
der them  to  all  these  equally  an  ornament  and  a  support. 
Certainly  it  should  be  the  paramount  study  as  it  is  the 
positive  interest  and  duty  of  the  lawgivers  and  leaders 
of  public  opinion  to  afford  every  possible  aid  and  sanc- 
tion to  this  vital  object,  instead  of  further  neglecting, 
encumbering  or  postponing — leaving  it  to  linger  an 
imperfect  and  a  doubtful  existence,  dependent  on  charity 
or  chance. 

The  object  of  education  should  be,  not  only  to  elicit 
and  cherish  the  latent  germs  of  genius  and  talent,  but 
also  to  awaken  and  enlighten  the  moral  sensibilities;  to 
implant  a  deep  and  firmly  rooted  sympathy  or  conscien- 
tiousness, which  shall  not  merely  cause  the  observance  and 
support  of  the  laws  of  the  country,  but  by  its  innate  force 
create  a  rectitude  of  purpose,  and  energy  of  action,  beyond 
and  above  the  letter  or  the  power  of  human  laws.  The 
present  age  is  distinguished  for  its  various  benevolent 
and  charitable  institutions,  among  the  foremost  of  which, 
rank  those  devoted  to  the  cause  of  temperance.  What 
an  inestimably  great  and  valuable  auxiliary  to  this  and 
all  the  other  measures  of  moral  reformation,  would  be 
furnished  by  reformed  education.  In  the  primary  schools 
must  the  death  blow  of  crime  be  struck;  the  anticipative 
faculties  of  the  rising  generation  be  guided  and  strength- 
ened. There  they  should  be  taught  that  humanity  in- 
cludes every  moral  virtue,  and  that  every  vice  is  com- 
prised in  cruelty.  Man  himself  occupies  but  a  small 
space  among  the  multitudinous  inhabitants  of  the  earth, 
a  very  large  portion  of  whom  are  within  his  power,  and 
their  happiness  or  misery  directly  or  indirectly  depend- 
ent not  on  their  own  actions  but  on  his.    In  this  country 


EDUCATION.  HQ 


he  now  engrosses  for  his  sustenance  or  pleasure,  the 
hibor  and  the  lives  of  numberless  other  sentient  creatures 
The  superior  knowledge  and  consequent  power  and  dis- 
position conferred  by  true  education,  would  cause  him 
wisely  and  justly  to  make  general  humanity  his  guide  in 
his  pursuits  for  his  own  happiness,  and  the  present 
enormous  mass  of  animal  suffering  need  not  exist  This 
grateful  duty  of  using  the  sacred  trusts  of  the  Deity  as 
not  abusing  them,  was  declared  by  a  party  of  farmers 
and  mechanics  in  Now  York  county,  as  follows : 

"If  all  mankind  were  sufficiently  enlightened  and  edu- 
cated to  know  their  true  interests,  and  to  understand 
that  the  practice  of  justice  and  kindness  to  all  animal  cre- 
ation is  indispensably  necessary  to  the  attainment  of  human 
happiness,  no  penal  laws  nor  courts  of  justice  would  be 
required  to  restrain  men  from  doing  injury  to  their  fel- 
low beings  or  to  induce  them  to  pursue  human  happi- 
ne?s  through  the  paths  of  moral  virtue." 

While,  as  members  of  the  human  family,  we  are  every 
day  and  every  hour  dependent  for  our  comfort  and  even 
existence  in  society,  on  the  good  disposition  and  good 
services  of  our  fellows;  is  it  not  self-evident,  that  to  ex- 
pand and  strengthen  their  physical  and  intellectual 
^cul"es,  and  leave  their  humane  sympathies  inert;  to 
educate  the  head  and  the  hands,  and  neglect  the  heart, 
>,  is  to  commit  at  once  moral  and  social  suicide;  to  create 
,  power,  only  that  it  may  be  abused.  How  instructive  is 
the  oriental  maxim,  that  "To  teach  a  knave  [without 

I  assasT-'"g  P  ^  V°  PU)  a  daSSCr  int°  the  hands  of  « 
assassin .  —Proposition  for  appropriating  all  the  U.  S 

•lands  and  half  0f  the  U.  S.  surplui  revenues,  to  common 
\  schools,  in  each  state. 

|  He  who  permits  his  son  to  consume  the  season  of  edu- 
cation in  hunting,  shooting,  or  in  frequenting  horse 

ver  onT^f1^  unedi'>»^  *  **  vicious  di- 

td,efrauds  the  community  of  a  benefactor  and 
pequeatns  them  a  nuisance.— Paley. 

L^!f.0m  knowledge,  as  wel1  as  virtue>  diffused 
generally  among  he  body  of  the  people,  being  necessary 
for  the  preservation  of  their  rights  and  liberties,  and  as 
pese  depend  on  spreading  the  opportunities  and  advan- 


120 


SPIRIT  OP  HUMANITY. 


tages  of  education  in  the  various  parts  of  the  country, 
and  among  the  different  orders  of  the  people,  it  shall  be 
the  duty  of  the  legislatures  and  magistrates,  in  all  future 
periods  of  this  commonwealth,  to  cherish  the  interests 
of  literature  and  the  sciences,  and  all  seminaries  of 
them;  to  countenance  and  inculcate  the  principle  of  hu- 
manity and  general  benevolence,  public  and  private  chari- 
ty, industry  and  frugality,  honesty  and  punctuality  in 
their  dealings;  sincerity,  good  humor,  and  all  social  affec- 
tions and  generous  sentiments  among  the  people  " — Consti- 
tutions of  Massachusetts  and  New  Hampshire. 

Promote,  then,  as  an  act  of  primary  importance,  in- 
stitutions for  the  general  diffusion  of  knowledge.  In 
proportion  as  the  structure  of  a  government  gives  force 
to  public  opinion,  it  is  essential  that  public  opinion 
should  be  enlightened. — Washington's  Farewell  Address.' 

Education  is  the  guardian  of  liberty  and  the  bulwark 
of  morality.  Knowledge  and  virtue  are  generally  in- 
separable companions,  and  are,  in  the  moral,  what  light 
and  heat  are  in  the  natural  world,  the  illuminating  and 
vivifying  principle.  Man  becomes  degraded  in  propor- 
tion as  he  loses  the  right  of  self  government.  Every 
effort  ought  therefore  to  be  made  to  fortify  our  free  in- 
stitutions; and  the  great  bulwark  of  security  is  to  be 
found  in  education;  the  culture  of  the  heart  and  the 
head,  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  piety  and  morality. 
A  virtuous  and  enlightened  man  can  never  submit  to  de- 
gradation; and  a  virtuous  and  enlightened  people  will 
never  breathe  in  the  atmosphere  of  slavery.  Upon  edu- 
cation we  must  therefore  rely  for  the  purity,  the  pre- 
servation, and  the  perpetuation  of  republican  govern- 
ment. In  this  sacred  cause  we  can  not  exercise  too 
much  liberality. — Be  Witt  Clinton. 

In  casting  our  eyes  over  the  numerous  catalogue  of 
human  crimes  and  frailties;  over  the  list  of  those  who 
have  perished  on  the  scaffold,  or  have  died  a  more  pain- 
ful and  lingering  death,  the  result  of  blasted  character, 
and  the  world's  scorn — one  would  wish  to  know  if  the 
germs  of  their  turpitude  were  perceptible  in  the  days 
which  are  generally  those  of  innocence.  Whether  the 
cold-blooded  murderer  in  after  life,  was  distinguished  by 


EDUCATION. 


121 


a  peculiar  cruelty  to  his  companions,  or  to  insects  and 
animals,  in  his  infancy — whether  the  forger  and  the  thief 
betraj'ed  any  propensity  to  dishonesty  in  their  youth. 

It  would  be  curious  to  trace  the  human  mind  either  to 
the  perfection  of  greatness,  or  to  the  completion  of  crime; 
to  trace  the  hero  from  his  play  at  prisoner's  base,  where 
he  domineered  over  his  school  mates,  to  the  battle  by 
which  he  gains  or  loses  an  empire— the  murderer,  from 
spinning  a  cock-chaffer,  or  taking  a  bird's  nest,  to  the 
moment  where  his  hand  is  dyed  in  the  blood  of  the  heart 
he  has  stabbed,  or  the  throat  he  has  cut — and  the  profli- 
gate from  the  first  germs  of  deceit  and  vanity,  to  that 
period  when  scorned  ,of  all  observers  they  are  the  ad- 
mitted companions  only  of  those  as  infamous  as  them- 
selves.— Beazleifs  Roue. 

The  aim  of  education  is  to  make  a  man  wise  and  good, 
literature  does  not  suffice.  Now,  not  a  moral  science  is 
taught,  not  a  moral  practice  is  inculcated.  The  only 
moral  principle  at  a  public  school  is  that  which  the  boys 
themsolves  tacitly  inculcate  and  acknowledge;  it  is  im- 
possible to  turn  a  large  number  of  human  beings  loose 
upon  each  other  but  what  one  of  the  consequences  will 
be  the  formation  of  a  public  opinion,  and  public  opinion 
instantly  creates  a  silent  but  omnipotent  code  of  laws. 
Thus  among  boys  there  is  always  a  vague  sense  of  honor 
and  of  justice,  which  is  the  only  morality  that  belongs  to 
schools.  It  is  this  vague  and  conventional  sense  to. 
which  the  master  trusts  and  with  which  he  seldom  in- 
terferes, But  how  vague  it  is,  how  confused,  how  erring t 
What  cruelty,  tyranny,  duplicity,  are  compatible  with  it! 
It  is  no  disgrace  to  insult  the  weak  and  to  lie  to  the 
strong;  to  torment  the  fag,  and  to  deceive  the  master. 
These  principles  grow  up  with  the  boy;  insensibly  they 
form  the  matured  man.  Look  abroad  in  the  world, 
what  is  the  most  common  character?  That  which  is  at 
once  arrogant  and  servile.  Bull  baiting  and  boxing  are 
amusements  that  brutalize.  The  advocates  of  such  popu- 
lar amusements  would  turn  people  into  swine,  and  then 
boast  of  their  kindness  in  teaching  them  to  be  savage. 
The  object  of  recreation  should  be*  to  soften  and  refine 
men,  not  to  render  them  more  ferocious. — Bulwer. 
12 


(122) 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS- 

[The  London  Society  for  the  Suppression  of  Vice, 
made  an  attack  on  the  monstrous  root  of  all  vice — cru- 
elty. The  Edinburgh  Review  approves  their  principle, 
but  censures  the  society  for  not  extending  their  denunci- 
ations and  prosecutions  to  offenders  of  wealth,  fashion 
and  influence.  Five  prevalent  modes  of  cruelty,  viz: 
angling,  hunting,  preparing  of  boar's  flesh  or  brawn, 
crimping  of  fish,  and  burning  or  boiling  to  death  shell 
fish,  are  described  by  the  society  as  follows.] 

Running  an  iron  hook  into  the  intestines  of  an  animal; 
presenting  this  first  animal  to  another  as  his  food;  and 
then  pulling  this  second  creature  up  and  suspending  him 
by  the  barb  in  his  stomach. 

Riding  a  horse  till  he  drops,  in  order  to  see  an  innocent 
animal  torn  to  pieces  by  dogs. 

•  -  Keeping  a  poor  animal  upright, for  many  weeks,  to  com- 
municate a  peculiar  hardness  to  his  flesh. 

Making  deep  incisions  into  the  flesh  of  another 
animal  while  living,  in  order  to  make  the  muscles  more 
firm. 

Immersing  another  animal,  while  Hying,  in  hot  water. 

How  reasonable  creatures  can  enjoy  a  pastime  which 
is  the  cause  of  such  sufferings  to  brute  animals,  or  hovr 
they  can  consider  themselves  entitled  for  their  own 
amusement  to  stimulate  those  animals  by  means  of  an- 
tipathies which  Providence  has  thought  proper  to  place 
between  them,  to  worry,  to  tear,  and  often  to  destroy 
each  other,  is  difficult  to  conceive.  So  inhuman  a  prac- 
tice by  a  retribution  peculiarly  just,  tends  obviously  to 
render  the  human  character  brutal  and  ferocious. — Ad- 
dress of  the  London  Society  for  the  Suppression  of  Vice. 

Such  abominable  cruelties  as  the  above  are  worthy  of 
the  interference  of  the  law;  and  that  the  society  should 
have  punished  them,  can  not  be  a  matter  of  surprise  to 
any  feeling  mind.  We  venerate  those  feelings  which 
really  protect  creatures  susceptible  of  pain  and  incapable 
of  complaiut.     These  are  all  high-life  cruelties,  but 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


123 


heaven-born  pity,  now-a-days,  ascertains  the  rank  and 
fortune  of  the  tormentor,  before  she  weeps  for  the  pain 
of  the  sufferer.  The  pain  inflicted  by  the  dog  of  a  man 
of  quality  is  the  same  as  that  inflicted  by  the  cur  of  a 
butcher.  Haller  in  his  pathology  expressly  says,  that  the 
animal  bitten  knows  no  difference  in  the  quality  of  the 
biting  animal  s  master,  and  surely  the  misery  of  the 
brawner  would  not  be  diminished  could  he  be  made  sensi- 
ble that  he  was  to  be  eaten  only  by  persons  of  the  first 
fashion. — Edinburgh  Review,  Vol.  13. 

At  the  late  annual  meeting  of  Society  for  the  Prevent- 
ing Cruelty  to  Animals,  Sir  C.  Mackinnon,  Bart.,  M.  P., 
presided.  Mr.  Gompertz,  the  secretary,  reported,  that 
during  the  previous  year  5 1  persons  had  been  fined  for 
cruelty  and  some  imprisoned,  32  amerced  in  costs,  &c. 
The  chairman,  Mr.  J.  Ward,  M.  P.,  Mr.  Marshall,  Mr. 
Meymott,  G.  Raymond,  Esq.,  and  others,  addressed  the 
meeting  in  behalf  of  the  society.  Resolutions  were 
passed  that  the  society  merited  the  support  of  the  pub- 
lic, &c. — English  Paper. 

Vermin. — Rats,  mice,  &c.,  must  be  destroyed,  but  let 
the  mode  receive  merciful  attention.  Powdered  poison- 
nut  (nux  vomica),  one  part,  mixed  with  three  of  meal, 
flour,  or  any  thing  they  are  fond  of,  acts  on  them  and 
kills  with  much  less  pain  than  arsonic.  To  cats  and  dogs 
also  the  nux  vomica  is  fatal  in  sufficient  doses,  but  is  in- 
ferior to  the  prussic  acid.  Cockroaches  and  beetles  in  the 
kitchens  are  also  destroyed  by  the  same  mixture.  Arsenic 
produces  the  most  horrible  agonies  which  last  several 
hours  before  death  takes  place;  these  can  only  be  imagined 
by  witnessing  its  effects  upon  its  wretched  victim.  As 
a  poison  its  use  should  be  strictly  prohibited  in  any  fam- 
ily. Next  to  the  tortures  jof  arsenic  is  the  truly  diabo- 
lical invention  and  practice  of  setting  gins— holding  the 
poor  animal  with  the  bone  of  the  limb  shattered,  and  the 
muscles  lacerated,  and  the  bruised  nerves  and  tenlfens 
firmly  clenched  by  the  teeth  of  the  gin.  during  the  hours 
of  night  when  the  family  is  reposing  in  quiet  sleep. 

Voice  of  Humanity. 

Badger  Baiting. — -Notwithstanding  this  animal's  peace- 
able  disposition,  it  defends  itself  when  attacked  with  the 


124 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


most  determined  resolution,  and  seldom  dies  unrevenged 
of  its  enemies.  On  this  account  it  has  been  selected  by 
the  idle,  and  the  vicious,  and  by  barbarians,  time  im- 
memorial, as  a  subject  for  cruel  sport.  It  is  conducted 
to  a  place  appointed  for  the  purpose  where  a  stake  has 
been  previously  set  in  the  ground,  to  which  the  animal 
is  fastened,  when  a  number  of  dogs  which  are  trained  and 
brought  for  the  purpose,  are  let  loose  upon  it,  who  attack 
and  worry  the  creature,- and  who  in  turn  are  severely 
torn  and  lacerated,  and  sometimes  killed  on  the  spot. 
Such  kind  of  diversion  as  this,  together  with  bull  baiting, 
bear  baiting,  and  every  other  species  of  baiting,  is  a  dis- 
grace to  humanity;  it  is  next  akin  to  the  inhuman  mode 
of  torturing  their  prisoners,  as  practiced  by  the  savages; 
it  has  a  direct  tendency  to  vitiate  the  manners  of  society; 
to  root  out  of  the  human  breast  every  civil,  moral  and 
benevolent  principle;  and  to  render  the  heart  callous  and  - 
the  people  savage. — Natural  History  by  J.  Macloc. 

Horrible  Cruelty. — A  lady  (in  1821)  having  occasion 
to  stop  at  a  poulterer's  in  Leadenhall  market,  she  saw  the 
man  picking*  a  fowl,  which,  to  her  surprise  and  horror, 
she  found  to  be  alive!  She  related  the  fact  to  the  master, 
who  was  engaged  at  the  time  in  a  distant  part  of  the 
shop,  and  whom  she  imagined  to  be  ignorant  of  the'  bar- 
barous fact:  but  her  surprise  was  greatly  increased,  and 
her  indignation  roused,  by  his  coolly  replying,  "Madam, 
we  always  do  so!  For  feathers  from  a  live  fowl  are  more 
valuable  to  the  upholsterers  than  when  taken  otherwise!" 
For  want  of  preventive  laws  we  can  neither  eat  nor  sleep, 
without  encouraging  the  most  frightful  enormities. 

The  horrid  barbarity  which  attends  the  pulling  of 
quills  from  geese  while  alive,  has  led  many  persons  to 
adopt  steel  and  other  pens,  which  are  made  in  great  per- 
fection.— G.  Colman. 

Barbarity  of  Whale  Fishing. — The  maternal  affection 
of  the  whale  is  striking  and  affecting.  The  cub  being 
insensible  to  danger,  is  easily  harpooned,  when  the  ten- 
der affection  of  the  mother  is  so  manifested,  as  not  un- 
frequently  to  bring  it  in  reach  of  the  'cruel  whalers. 
Hence,  though  a  cub  is  of  little  value,  yet  it  is  sometimes 
struck  as  a  snare  for  its  affectionate  mother!    In  thi3 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 


125 


case  she  joins  it  at  the  surface  of  the  water,  whenever  it 
lias  occasion  to  rise  for  respiration,  encourages  it  to  swim 
away;  assists  its  flight  by  taking  it  under  her  fin;  and 
seldom  deserts  it  while  life  remains.  She  is  then  dan- 
gerous to  approach,  but  affords  frequent  opportunities  for 
attack.  She  loses  all  regard  for  her  own  safety,  in  anxi- 
ety for  the  preservation  of  her  young;  dashes  through 
the  midst  of  her  enemies;  despises  the  danger  that  threat- 
ens her,  and  even  voluntarily  remains  with  her  offspring 
after  various  attacks  have  been  made  upon  herself.  In 
the  whale  fishery  of  1814,  a  harpooner  struck  a  young 
whale  with  the  barbarous  hope  of  its  leading  to  the  poor 
mother.  Presently  she  arose,  and  seizing  the  young  one, 
dragged  about  a  hundred  fathoms  of  line  out  of  the  boat, 
with  remarkable  force  and  velocity.  Again  she  arose  to 
tho  surface,  darted  furiously  to  and  fro ;  frequently  stop- 
ped short,  or  suddenly  changed  her  direction,  and  gave 
every  visabl^  intimation  of  extreme  agony.  For  a  length 
of  time  she  continued  thus  to  act,  though  closely  pursued 
by  the  boats;  and  inspired  with  courage  and  resolution 
by  her  concern  for  her  offspring,  seemed  regardless  of 
the  danger  that  surrounded  her.  Being  at  length  struck 
with  six  harpoons,  she  was  killed  by  her  savage  pursuers. 

Colman's  Anecdotes.' 
A  pious  man  is  always  compassionate,  and  would  deem 
it  cruelty  to  put  even  an  animal  to  needless  pain,  or  to 
abuse  those  .useful  creatures  which  conduce  so  much  to 
the  comfort  of  life.  But  wicked  men  are  hard-hearted 
and  cruel  even  in  their  tenderest  mercies.  Thus  they  deem 
themselves  very  merciful  when  their  oppressions  are  not 
quite  so  cruel  as  they  might  be;  and  they  often  affect  to 
speak  of  the  poor  and  distressed  as  being  very  well  used 
and  in  a  very  desirable  situation,  when  they  themselves 
could  not  endure  such  treatment  for  a  single  day. 

Thomas  Scott. 


(126) 


COMMENTARIES. 

Ah  me!  how  little  knows  the  human  heart, 
The  pleasing  task  of  softening  others'  wo; 

Stranger  to  joys  that  pity  can  impart, 

And  tears,  sweet  sympathy  can  teach  to  flow. 

If  e'er  I've  mourned  my  humble  lowly  state; 

If  e'er  I've  bowed  my  knees  at  fortune's  shrine; 
If#e'er  a  wish  escaped  me  to  be  great, 

That  fervent  prayer,  humanity!  was  thine. 

Be  mine  the  blush  of  modest  worth  to  spare ; 

To  change  to  smiles,  affliction's  rising  sigh; 
The  kindred  warmth  of  charity  to  share, 

Till  joy  shall  sparkle  from  the  tear-filled  eye. 


THE  HORSE. 

i  barbarous  men!  your  cruel  breasts  assuage; 
Why  vent  ye  on  the  generous  steed  your  rage? 
Does  not  his  service  earn  your  daily  bread? 
Your  wives,  your  children,  by  his  labor  fed. — Gay. 

Where  is  the  soul,  having  any  human  feelings,  any  pity 
in  its  composition,  that  is  not  daily  tortured  in  beholding 
the  barbarous  cruelties  inflicted  upon  good  and  useful  an- 
imals, in  our  fields,  in  our  roads,  and  in  our  public 
streets?  Sometimes,  laden  with  the  heaviest  burdens, 
proportioned  not  to  their  strength,  but  to  the  cupidity  of 
ill-calculated  gain,  the  horse  can  scarcely  proceed  along, 
overcome  with  fatigue  and  blows;  sometimes,  emaciated 
with  labor  and  hunger,  he  pines  mournfully  at  the  door 
of  an  ale-house,  where  his  master  sacrifices  his  time,  and 
which  he  must  afterwards  regain  by  forced  marches: 
sometimes,  out  of  breath,  the  body  bathed  in  sweat,  the 
sides  gored  and  bleeding  from  the  spur,  the  useful  horse 
exhausts  his  strength  to  convey,  rapidly,  the  brutal  and 


THE  HORSE 


127 


insolent  servant,  who,  too  often  precedes  only  wealthy 
immorality.  Here,  the  more  he  strives,  the  more  he 
feels  the  whip:  there,  after  long  and  excessive  labor,  he 
is  driven  rather  than  than  conducted,  to  scanty  pastures, 
or  to  commons,  where  he  must  dispute  with  sheep  the 
short  grass  which  he  can  hardly  bite,  and  where,  during 
summer,  he  remains  exposed  to  the  stinging  of  flies,  and, 
at  all  times,  to  the  inclemencies  of  the  atmosphere,  and 
also  to  the  greatest  cruelties  of  young  and  unfeeling 
herdsmen,  who  prove  theselves,  not  his  protectors,  but 
his  bitterest  enemies.  Always  fed  with  parsimony;  com- 
pelled, in  many  places,  to  endure  hunger  and  thirst ;  often 
neglected  and  despised,  their  most  important  services  are 
held  of  no  account.  Whatever  may  be  their  claims  to 
gratitude,  those  claims  are  neglected;  and  when  age,  at 
length,  renders  them  incapable  of  the  ardor,  and  spirit, 
and  lively  vigor  of  their  youth,  they  are  consigned  to 
misery;  a  dreadful  leanness  appears,  and  it  deforms  them; 
evils  of  all  descriptions  assail  them:  their  skins  half 
torn  off,  are  the  bleeding  proofs  of  the  barbarities  they 
endure:  and  when,  at  length,  a  total  decay  of  strength 
comes  on,  when  extended  on  the  earth  from*  which  they 
can  not  rise,  they  seem  to  regret  that  they  can  be  no 
longer  useful;  they  turn,  with  their  last  sigh,  looks  of 
languid  affection  towards  their  master,  who  endeavors  to 
reanimate  them  by  blows,  or  coldly  calculates  what  the 
carcass  will  sell  for! 

There  are,  however,  honorable  exceptions;  and  it  may 
be  remarked,  that  those  who  pay  the  necessary  attention 
to  their  teams,  who  do  not  overwork  them,  and  who 
give  them  proper  nourishment,  enjoy  a  competence  which 
is  the  result  of  successful  cultivation,  while  the  others 
remain  in  misery.    Nature  is  never  insulted  in  vain! 

People,  who  boast  your  knowledge  and  your  philoso- 
phy, cease  to  be  proud  of  them,  for  they  have  not  rooted 
from  your  hearts  harsh  insensibility.  Cruelty  towards 
those  beings  who  live  in  the  midst  of  us,  and  who  live 
only  to  satisfy  our  wants,  to  procure  comforts  for  us,  and 
to  create  pleasure,  is  a  blot  upon  civilized  society. 
Shame  upon  the  man  who  has  not  learned  compassion 
towards  the  sufferings  of  animals,  who  does  not  strive  to 


128 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


assuage  their  pains,  and  to  show  them  that  attention 
which  their  qualities  and  their  services  demand!  Shame 
on  him  who  treats  them  with  severity!  His  barren  soul 
knows  nothing  of  the  soft  and  delightful  impressions  of 
sensibility;  for  the  wicked  and  cruel  man  can  not,  with 
all  his  dissimulation,  conceal  his  real  character:  it  often 
betrays  other  proofs  of  inhumanity. — From  the  French 
of  Sonnini. 


THE  POST  HORSE. 

Could  the  poor  post-horse  tell  thee  all  his  woes — 
Show  thee  his  bleeding  shoulders,  and  unfold 
The  dreadful  anguish  he  endures  for  gold! 
Hired  at  each  call  of  business,  lust,  or  rage, 
That  prompt  the  traveler  from  stage  to  stage. 
Still  on  his  strength  depends  their  boasted  speed, 
For  them  his  limbs  grow  weak,  his  bare  ribs  bleed; 
And  though  he,  groaning,  quickens  at  command, 
Their  extra  chilling  in  the  rider's  hand 
Becomes  his  bitter  scourge — 'tis  he  must  feel 
The  double  efforts  of  the  lash  and  steel, 
Till  when,  up  hill,  the  destined  inn  he  gains, 
And  trembling  under  complicated  pains, 
Prone  from  his  nostrils,  darting  on  the  ground, 
His  breath  emitted  floats  in  clouds  around; 
Drops  chase  each  other  down  his  chest  and  sides, 
And  spattered  mud  his  native  color  hides. 
Through  his  swoln  veins  the  boiling  torrent  flows, 
And  every  nerve  a  separate  torture  knows. 
His  harness  loosed,  he  welcomes,  eager  eyed, 
The  pail's  full  draught  that  quivers  by  his  side; 
And  joys  to  see  the  well  known  stable  door, 
As  the  starved  mariner  the  friendly  shore. 
Ah!  well  for  him,  if  here  his  sufferings  ceased, 
And  ample  hours  of  rest  his  pains  appeased. 
But  roused  again,  and  sternly  bid  to  rise, 
And  shake  refreshing  slumber  from  his  eyes, 
Ere  his  exhausted  spirit  can  return. 


THE  HORSE. 


129 


Or  through  his  frame  reviving  ardor  burn, 

Come  forth  he  must,  though  limping,  maimed,  and  sore; 

He  hears  the  whip — the  chaise  is  at  the  door; 

The  collar  tightens,  and  again  he  feels, 

His  half  healed  wounds  inflamed — again  the  wheels, 

With  tiresome  sameness,  in  his  ears  resound, 

O'er  blinding  dust,  or  miles  of  flinty  ground. 

Bloomjield, 


Your  nags  the  leanest  things  alive. 

So  near  you  starve,  so  hard  you  drive; 

I  heard  your  anxious  coachman  say, 

It  cost  you  more  for  whips  than  hay. — Prior. 

Management  of  Horses. — Great  care  and  pains  must 
be  taken  in  teaching  horses,  and  considerable  time  is 
necessary  to  render  them  supple,  steady  and  obedient. 
Severe  correction  is,  as  much  as  possible,  to  be  avoided, 
and  never  to  be  resorted  to,  till  gentle  means  and  cherish- 
ing have  been  tried.  Every  horse  of  good  temper,  will 
submit  to  these;  if  he  be  made  sensible,  how  and  when 
to  do  that  which  is  required  of  him.  If  correction  be- 
comes necessary,  as  may  be  the  case  when  the  horse  ob- 
stinately refuses  his  lessons,  he  should  be  punished,  and 
at  the  instant  he  commits  the  fault,  though  moderately; 
but  never  for  ignorance  which  might  make  him  timorous 
and  create  an  aversion  to  his  exercises. 

The  use  of  the  spur,  in  connection  with  the  usual  aids 
of  the  hands  and  legs,  is  sufficient  for  the  complete  gov- 
ernment of  the  horse  in  all  his  movements.  .  If  it  becomes 
necessary  to  use  the  spur  as  a  correction,  the  rider  must 
not  apply  it  with  violence,  but  with  moderate  force, 
pressing  still  harder  if  he  persists  in  his  obstinacy.  The 
proper  use  of  the  curb  is  a  point  of  importance  in  man- 
aging a  horse.  It  ought  to  be  used  very  cautiously;  a 
gentle  turn  of  the  wrist  is  sufficient  to  govern  one  that 
has  been  well  managed.  When  the  rider  brings  his  horse 
from  a  brisk  gallop  to  the  walk,  he  gives  a  smart  check 
with  the  curb,  with  an  even  hand,  but  he  should  never 
jerk  hard  upon  it,  unless  he  means  to  correct  him,  which, 


130 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


in  general,  is  better  done  with  some  tone  of  voice,  by 
which  the  horse  may  understand  that  the  rider  dislikes 
his  conduct. 

Patience  and  perseverance  is  necessary  in  training 
horses  for  the  cavalry  service,  and  great  gentleness  must 
be  observed  towards  them  at  all  times,  but  more  espe- 
cially in  habituating  them  to  the  noise  and  sights  incident 
to  war. 

It  is  an  approved  method  to  conquer  the  horse's  fear 
of  the  sound  of  a  drum,  by  beating  it  near  him  while 
feeding;  and  were  they  constantly  accustomed  to  this  and 
other  noises  of  war,  and  to  see  fire  and  smoke  immedi- 
ately before  feeding,  they  would  soon  be  reconciled  to 
them,  and  from  the  expectation  of  feeding  these  wot* Id 
become  pleasant,  as  precursors  of  their  food,  and  they 
would  be  led  into  the  noise  of  battle  without  fear. 

It  is  never  proper  to  whip,  or  spur  a  horse  up  to  a 
drum,  or  fire  arm;  for  this  may  create  an  aversion  which 
would  be  difficult  to  remove,  and  he  would  view  them  as 
precursors  of  chastisement. — Hoyfs  Cavalry  Exercise. 

The  learned  and  benevolent  Burbequius  who  was  am- 
bassador at  Constantinople  in  the  17th  century,  gives  the 
following  account  of  the  Turkish  horses.  Our  grooms, 
and  their  masters,  too,  may  learn  a  lesson  of  wisdom  and 
humanity  from  his  words:  "There  is  no  creature  so 
gentle  as  a  Turkish  horse,  nor  more  respectful  to  his 
master  or  the  groom  that  dresses  him.  The  reason  is, 
because  they  treat  their  horses  with  great  lenity.  This 
makes  them  great  lovers  of  mankind  and  they  are  so  far 
from  kicking,  wincing,  or  growing  untractable  by  this 
gentle  usage,  that  you  will  hardly  find  a  masterless  horse 
amongst  them.  But  alas!  our  Christian  grooms'  horses 
go  on  at  another  rate!  They  never  think  them  rightly 
curried  till  they  thunder  at  them  with  their  voices,  and 
their  clubs  or  horse- whips,  as  it  were,  dwell  on  their  sides. 
This  makes  some  horses  even  tremble  when  their  keepers 
come  into  the  stable— so  that  they  hate  and  fear  them 
too.  But  the  Turks  love  to  have  their  horses  so  gentle 
that  at  the  word  of  command  they  may  fall  on  their  knees, 
and  in  this  posture  receive  their  riders. 

They  will  take  up  from  the  road,  with  their  teeth,  a 


THE  HORSE.  131 

staff  or  club  which  their  rider  has  let  fall  and  hold  it  up 
to  him  again.  I  saw  some  horses,  when  their  master  had 
fallen  from  the  saddle,  stand  stock  still  without  wagging 
a  foot  till  he  got  up  again.  Once  I  saw  some  horses, 
when  their  master  was  at  dinner  with  me,  prick  up  their 
ears  to  hear  his  voice;  and  when  they  did  so,  they 
neighed  for  joy." — Library  of  Useful  Knowledge — Farm- 
ers1  Series. 

Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury  enumerates  racing  among 
the  sports  that  gallant  philosopher  thought  unworthy  of 
a  man  of  honor.  "The  exercise,"  says  he,  "I  do  not  much 
approve  of,  is  running  of  horses,  there  being  much  cheat- 
ing in  that  kind ;  neither  do  I  see  why  a  brave  man  should 
delight  in  a  creature  whose  chief  use  is  to  help  him  to 
run  away." 

The  horse's  tail  is  guarded  with  long  bushy  hair  that 
protects  it  in  both  extremes  of  weather;  during  the  sum- 
mer it  serves  by  its  pliancy  and  agility,  to  brush  off  the 
swarms  of  insects  which  are  perpetually  attempting 
either  to  sting  him,  or  deposit  their  eggs  within  his  body; 
the  same  length  of  hair  continues  to  guard  him  from  the 
cold  in  winter;  but  we  [the  British],  by  the  absurd  and 
cruel  custom  of  docking,  a  practice  peculiar  to  our 
country,  deprive  this  animal  of  both  advantages:  in  the 
last  wrar  our  cavalry  suffered  so  much  on  that  account, 
that  we  now  seem  sensible  of  the  error,  and  if  wre  may 
judge  from  some  recent  orders  in  that  branch  of  service, 
it  will  for  the  future  be  corrected. — Pennant's  Natural 
History. 


THE  FORCE  OF  EXAMPLE. 

Fond  is  the  human  heart  of  power, 
Indeed  it  can  not  be  denied, 

We  see  the  tyrant  every  hour 

Stuffed  like  a  pin-cushion  with  pride. 

How  like  the  negro  on  his  mule, 
Tormenting  him  beyond  all  rule, 
Beating  him  o'er  the  head  and  ears, 


132 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


His  spurs  into  the  creature  sticking 
Abusing,  cursing,  swearing,  kicking, 
For  Jacky  like  a  gemman  swears. 

His  former  master  passing  by, 
Beheld  the  beast  with  pitying  eye — 

5<You  scoundrel  hold!  is  murder  your  design?" 
His  ape  turned  round  with  a  broad  grin, 
Not  valuing  the  rebuke  one  pin, 

"Massa,  me  was  your  negur;  dis  is  mine. 

Peter  Pindar. 

The  Mule  Outwitted. — A  certain  mule  that  was  wont 
to  cary  salt,  in  fording  a  river,  by  accident  happened  to 
stumble;  by  which  means  the  water  melted  away  the  salt, 
when  the  mule  rose  again,  he  felt  himself  much  lighter; 
the  cause  of  which  the  mule  was  very  sensible  of,  and 
laid  it  up  in  his  memory,  insomuch,  that  every  time  he 
forded  the  same  river,  he  would  always  stoop  when  he  came 
into  the  deepest  part,  and  fill  his  vessels  with  water, 
crouching  down,  and  leaning  sometimes  to  one  side,  and 
sometimes  to  another.  Tkales,  hearing  this,  ordered  the 
vessel  to  be  well  filled  with  wool  and  sponge,  and  to  drive 
the  mule  laden  after  that  manner.  The  mule,  as  he  was 
wont,  filled  his  burthens  with  water,  and  on  discovering 
the  trick  which  had  been  played  him,  reasoned  with  him- 
self, that  he  had  ill  consulted  his  own  benefit;  and  ever 
afterward,  when  he  forded  the  same  river,  was  so  careful 
and  cautious,  that  by  his  good  will  he  would  never  suffer 
his  burthens  so  much  as  to  touch  the  water. — Wonders  of 
the  Horse. 

The  selection  of  horses  adapted  to  particular  situations 
is  evidently  a  matter  of  primary  consideration.  What- 
ever may  be  the  description  of  horses  employed,  it  is 
always  a  rule  with  good  managers,  never  to  allow  them 
to  fall  off  in  condition  so  much  as  to  be  incapable  of 
going  through  their  work,  without  frequent  applications 
of  the  lash.  There  is  nothing  which  more  clearly  marks 
the  unprosperous  condition  of  a  farmer  than  the  leanness 
of  his  working  cattle,  and  their  reluctant  movements  un- 
der this  severe  stimulus.    There  are  particular  opera- 


THE  HORSE, 


133 


tions,  indeed,  such  as  turnip  sowing,  seeding  fallows, 
harvest  work,  &c.,  which  require  to  be  executed  with  so 
great  a  dispatch  in  a  variable  climate,  that  unusual  exer- 
tions are  sometimes  indispensable.  At  these  times  it  is 
hardly  possible  by  the  richest  food  and  the  most  careful 
treatment  to  prevent  the  animal  from  losing  flesh,  some- 
times when  their  spirit  and  vigor  are  not  perceptibly  im- 
paired. Such  labors  however  do  not  continue  long,  and 
should  always  be  followed  by  a  corresponding  period  of 
indulgence.  It  is  particularly  dangerous  and  unprofit- 
able, to  begin  the  spring  labor  with  horses  worn  down 
by  bad  treatment  during  winter. 

One  of  the  three  daily  meals  of  farm  horses  may  con- 
sist of  roots;  at  least  a  few  of  them  daily  are  highly  con- 
ducive to  the  health  of  the  animal;  but  carrots,  turnips, 
potatoes,  &c,  may  be  cheaper,  but  they  do  not  afford 
sufficient  nourishment  for  horses  regularly  worked,  with- 
out oats;  at  least  a. peck  of  oats  or  mixed  oats  and  beans 
is  necessary.  It  is  now  well  understood  that  frequent 
but  moderate  meals,  consisting  of  a  due  proportion  of 
succulent  joined  to  more  solid  food — a  liberal  use  of  the 
brush  and  the  curry-comb  twice  a  day — abundance  of 
fresh  litter,  and  great  attention  to  method  and  cleanli- 
ness, are  as  indispensable  in  the  stable  of  a  farmer  (as 
far  as  is  consistent  with  a  just  regard  for  economy)  as; 
they  have  always  been  held  to  be  in  the  treatment  of 
horses  kept  for  pleasure.  Good  dressing  is  no  less  neces- 
sary to  the  thriving  of  the  horses  than  good  feeding. 
Although  in  many  countries  horses  are  used  only  for  their 
labor,  probably  nothing  but  prejudice  prevents  their  sup- 
plying (at  least  occasionally)  human  food. — Supplement 
to  the  Encyclopedia  Britannica. 

Canal  Horses. — The  horses  are  worn  out  in  such  an 
improvident  manner  upon  the  canal,  that  the  demand  for 
them  is  greater  than  it  ever  has  been;  the  great  waste  of 
these  animals  and  their  consequent  suffering  has  fallen 
under  the  observation  of  many  humane  and  intelligent 
persons.  It  is  not  the  interest  of  the  owners  of  the  ani- 
mals to  hurry  them  on  to  premature  destruction;  and 
there  is  a  maximum  of  useful  effect  which  the  horse  can 
produce  without  wasting  himself  prematurely.  Where 
13 


134 


SPIRIT   OF  HUMANITY. 


this  is  exceeded  it  must  be  at  the  expense  of  his  consti- 
tution. These  animals  so  serviceable  to  us  are  certainly 
entitled  to  kindness  at  our  hands  at  least.  The  object 
of  this  paper  is  to  awaken  attention  to  the  abuses  of 
horses  in  canal  labor,  in  order  to  do  some  good  to  the 
animals  as  well  as  their  owners. 

The  body  of  a  horse  constitutes  his  natural  weight ; 
and  it  is  by  his  muscular  power  that  he  is  enabled  to 
move  it.  The  natural  power  of  the  animal  divides  itself 
into  pressure  to  move  his  load,  and  muscular  action  to 
move  himself  in  this  state.  The  total  power  or  strength 
of  every  horse  having  natural  limits,  it  is  evident  if  the 
pressure  is  increased  beyond  its  just  limit,  it  must  be  at 
the  expense  of  the  muscular  power,  which  will  thus  be 
untimely  exhausted  and  the  utility  of  the  animal  de- 
stroyed before  its  natural  period  has  expired.  When  a 
body  is  in  motion,  its  progress  is  retarded  by  the  press- 
ure of  its  own  weight  to  the  surface  it  moves  upon.  On 
a  canal  the  force  to  be  overcome  is  not  friction,  but  the 
resistance  of  the  fluid;  this  increases  nearly  as  the  square 
I  of  the  velocity.  Here  is  one  advantage  of  the  railroads 
over  canals;  on  the  former,  if  the  distance  for  the  day  is 
not  increased,  the  speed  may  be  augmented  without  in- 
convenience. On  the'  canal,  every  trifling  increase  of 
speed  accelerates  the  destruction  of  the  animal,  whose 
labor  on  a  canal  is  always  at  some  disadvantage.  Where 
the  load  and  speed  are  properly  adjusted,  ahorse  will  do 
his  work  comfortably  every  day  for  a  distance  of  twenty 
miles;  but  this  distance  with  the  same  load  can  not  be 
increased  without  injuring  him.  Upon  a  canal,  a  horse 
may  drag  nearly  thirty  tons  for  twenty  miles  every  day, 
at  the  rate  of  two  miles  an  hour;  but  if  his  speed  with 
that  load  is  increased  to  four  miles  an  hour,  the  resist- 
ance [instead  of  being  doubled]  is  quadrupled,  and  he  is 
.in  fact  made  to  do,  while  at  that  pace,  the  work  of  four 
horses.  It  is  for  the  owners  of  those  animals  which  per- 
form canal  labor,  to  see  that  the  work  is  done  systemati- 
cally and  after  some  rule,  consistent  to  the  consideration 
they  owe  to  the  animals  which  labor  for  them,  in  which 
also  their  own  interests  are  involved. — George  W,  Fea- 
therstonhaugh. 


THE  HORSE. 


In  New  York  Assembly,  April  18,  1831 
Report  of  the  committee  on  agriculture,  relating  ic 
horse  racing.    Mr.  Gilchrist,  from  the  standing  commit- 
tee on  agriculture,  respectfully  reports: 

That  your  committee  unanimously  concur  in  the  belief 
that  a  very  great  majority  of  the  people  of  this  state 
disapprove  of  the  passage  of  laws  establishing  race 
courses.  We  submit  whether  horse  racing  in  all  its  va- 
rieties of  scrub,  petty  or  grand,  does  not  produce  evils 
which  are  inherent,  and  inseparable  from  the  system  and 
common  to  every  kind  of  horse  race? 

It  is  submitted  whether  running  horses,  for  a  bet  or 
wager,  does  not  involve  some  of  the  worst  and  most 
distinctive  features  of  gambling.  The  result,  it  is  true, 
is  not  decided  by  the  cast  of  a  die,  or  the  spots  on  a 
card,  but  by  a  contingency  equally  uncertain,  the  fleet- 
ness  of  a  horse.  This  is  not  all :  if  one  of  those  noble 
animals  should  unfortunately'  for  himself  be  found  to 
possess  the  quality  of  swiftness,  he  is  instantly  put  in 
training,  brought  on  the  race  course,  goaded  into  preter- 1 
natural  exertion  by  the  whip  and  spur,  not  to  subserve  * 
the  convenience  and  comfort  of  man,  his  original  destiny, 
but  for  the  purpose  of  transferring  a  purse  from  the 
pocket  of  one  man  to  that  of  another.  It  is  further 
submitted  whether  in  this  respect  the  infliction  of  cruelty 
for  such  a  purpose  does  not  contravene  our  humane  laws 
in  relation  |^the  cruel  treatment  of  animals.  Moreover, 
do  not  race  courses  produce  evils  unknown  even  to 
gambling  within  doors,  inasmuch  as  they  assemble  the 
thoughtless  and  the  profligate  from  a  wide  circle  of  ter- 
ritory, occasioning  waste  of  time  and  money,  exposing 
such  crowds  to  the  contamination  of  evil  communica- 
tions, to  intemperance,  and  to  every  crime  and  danger 
incidental  to  such  gatherings?  And  can  it  be  sound  policy 
to  purchase  such  very  equivocal  good,  at  the  expense  of 
so  mireh  positive  evil  ?  Or  will  it  be  pretended,  that 
any  possible  improvement  in  the  breed  of  race  horses  can 
compensate  for  this  moral  and  physical  deterioration  ia 
the  breed  of  men? 


136 


SPIRIT  OP  HUMANITY. 


It  would  oe  curious,  though  painful,  to  ascertain  accu- 
rately the  number  of  insolvencies,  of  criminal  convic- 
tions ;  the  number  of  those  who  have  become  victims  to 
gambling,  intemperance,  &c,  who  might  have  lived  good 
citizens,  but  for  the  folly  of  having  attended  a  horse 
race. — New  York  State  Documents. 

Come  forth  my  brave  steed!  the  sun  shines  on  the  vale, 
And  the  morning  is  bearing  its  balm  on  the  gale — 
Come  forth  my  brave  steed!  and  brush  off  as  we  pass, 
With  the  hoofs  of  thy  speed  the  bright  dew  from  the  grass. 

Let  the  lover  go  warble  his  strains  to  the  fair — 
I  regard  not  his  rapture,  and  heed  not  his  care; 
But  now  as  we  bound  o'er  the  mountain  and  lea, 
I  will  weave,  my  brave  steed,  a  wild  measure  for  thee. 

Away  and  away — I  exult  in  the  glow, 
Which  is  breathing  its  pride  to  my  cheek  as  we  go; 
And  blithely  my  spirit  springs  forth,  as  the  air 
Which  is  waving  the  mane  of  thy  dark  flowing  hair. 

Hail  thou  gladness  of  heart  and  thou  freshness  of  soul 
Which  have  never  come  o'er  me  in  pleasure's  control — 
Which  the  dance  and  the  revel,  the  bowl  and  the  board, 
Though  they  flushed  and  they  fevered,  could  never  afford. 

In  the  splendor  of  solitude  speed  we  along 

Through  the  silence  but  broke  by  the  wild  linnet's  song; 

Not  a  sight  to  the  eye,  not  a  sound  to  the  ear, 

To  tell  us  that  sin  and  that  sorrow  are  near. 

Away — and  away — and  away  then  we  pass ; 
The  blind  mole  shall  not  hear  thy  light  foot  on  the  grass; 
And  the  time  which  is  flying  while  I  am  with  thee, 
Seems  as  swift  as  thyself — as  we  bound  o'er  the  lea. 

Bulwer, 


VIRGIL'S  DIRECTIONS. 

Soothe  him  with  praise,  and  make  him  understand 
The  loud  applauses  of  his  master's  hand: 
This,  from  his  weaning,  let  him  well  be  taught; 
And  then  betimes  in  a  soft  snaffle  wrought, 
Before  his  tender  joints  with  nerves  are  knit. 
Untried  in  arms,  and  trembling  at  the  bit. 
But  when  to  four  full  springs  his  years  advance, 
Teach  him  to  run  the  round,  with  pride  to  prancer 
And  (rightly  managed)  equal  time  to  beat, 
To  turn,  to  bound  and  measure,  and  curvet. 
Let  him  to  this,  with  easy  pains,  be  brought, 
And  seem  to  labor,  when  he  labors  not. 
Thus  formed  for  speed  he  challenges  the  wind, 
And  leaves  the  Scythian  arrow  far  behind : 
He  scours  along  the  field  with  loosened  reins, 
And  treads  so  light,  he  scarcely  prints  the  plains; 
Or  bred  to  Belgian  wagons,  leads  the  way, 
Untired  at  night,  and  cheerful  all  the  day. 


[Virgil  teaches  a  like  gentleness  in  training  the  ox.] 

The  calf,  by  nature  and  by  genius  made 
To  turn  the  glebe,  breed  to  the  rural  trade. 
Set  him  betimes  to  school;  and  let  him  be 
Instructed  there  in  rules  of  husbandry, 
•    While  yet  his  youth  is  flexible  and  green, 
Nor  bad  examples  of  the  world  has  seen. 
Early  begin  the  stubborn  child  to  break; 
For  his  soft  neck  a  supple  collar  make 
Of  bending  osiers ;  and  (with  time  and  care 
Inured  that  easy  servitude  to  bear) 
Thy  flattering  method  on  the  youth  pursue: 
Joined  to  his  schoolfellow  by  two  and  two, 
Persuade  them  first  to  lead  an  empty  wheel, 


138 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


That  scarce  the  dust  can  raise,  or  they  can  feel: 
In  length  of  time  produce  the  laboring  yoke, 
And  shining  shares,  that  make  the  furrow  smoke 
Ere  the  licentious  youth  be  thus  restrained, 
Or  moral  precepts  on- their  minds  have  gained, 
Their  wanton  appetites  not  only  feed 
With  delicates  of  leaves,  and  marshy  weed, 
But  with  thy  sickle  reap  the  rankest  land, 
And  minister  the  blade  with  bounteous  hand: 
Nor  be  with  harmful  parsimony  won 
To  follow  what  our  homely  sires  have  done, 
Who  filled  the  pail  with  beastings  of  the  cow; 
But  all  her  udder  to  the  calf  allow. 

Dryden's  Virgil. 

The  ox  should  be  gradually  and  early  trained,  that  he 
may  obey  the  voice  and  whip,  for  it  is  only  by  beginning 
early  that  the  ox  can  be  brought  willingly  to  bear  the 
yoke,  and  be  easily  governed.  At  the  age  of  two  and  a 
half,  or  at  the  latest  three,  you  may  begin  to  tame  the  ox, 
and  bring  him  under  subjection;  if  delayed  longer  he 
becomes  froward  and  often  ungovernable.  The  best 
method  of  succeeding  is  by  practice,  mildness  and  even 
caresses  (for  compulsion  and  ill  treatment  will  often  dis- 
gust him  irreclaimably);  stroking  him  gently  along  the 
back,  clapping  him,  giving  him  occasionally  boiled  bar- 
ley, ground  beans,  and  such  other  aliments  as  please  him 
best,  all  of  them  mingled  with  salt,  of  which  he  is  very 
fond,  will  prove  of  the  greatest  use.  At  the  same  time 
his  horns  should  be  often  tied,  and  some  days  after  the 
yoke  is  to  be  put  on  his  neck,  and  fastened  to  the  plow, 
with  another  ox  of  nearly  the  same  size,  ready  trained; 
these  are  to  be  tied  together  at  the  manger,  and  in  the 
same  manner  led  to  the  pasture,  that  they  may  become 
acquainted  and  accustomed  to  have  one  common  motion. 
The  goad  or  whip  is  never  to  be  made  use  of  in  the  be-* 
ginning,  as  that  would  only  render  him  more  untractable. 
He  must  also  be  indulged,  and  labor  only  at  short  inter- 
vals, for  till  he  is  thoroughly  trained  he  tires  himself 
very  much.  The  ox  should  draw  the  plow  only  from 
his  third  to  his  tenth  year,  when  it  will  be  advisable  to 


EARLY  FRIENDSHIP. 


139 


fatten  and  sell  him,  as  being  then  of  a  better  flesh  than 
if  he  were  kept  longer.  For  color  the  bay  or  red  dun  is 
best. — Modern  Diet,  of  Arts  and  Sciences. — Buffon. 


EARLY  FRIENDSHIP. 

In  earliest  years,  when  tops  and  toys, 

And  all  the  tribe  of  infant  joys 
Filled  up  each  happy  day,  each  busy  hour, 

E'en  in  the  bud,  half  opened  yet, 

Its  dyes  but  faint,  its  leaves  scarce  set, 
Peeped  forth  young  friendship's  timid,  tender  flower. 

The  great  old  house  dog,  in  whose  face 
Rough  worth,  and  all  that's  good  had  place; 

With  paw  so  broad,  and  velvet  drooping  jowls, 
Stretched  in  the  sun  would  roll  for  me, 
And  with  rude  love,  and  awkward  glee, 

Half  closed  his  laughing  eye,  with  merry  growls. 

And  when  from  off  his  brindled  side 
The  cold  drops  trickled  down  his  hide, 

And  pierced  with  snowy  winds,  he  trembled  at  the  door, 
The  friendly  latch  was  raised  by  me, 
And  half  my  bread,  and  half  my  tea,  [more. 

Were  given  to  cheer  his  heart,  and  bid  him  droop  no 

At  length,  weighed  down  and  grey  with  years, 

The  guard  no  more  that  stilled  my  fears 
As  through  the  wood,  at  eve,  I  trudged  alone: 

Changed  was  his  hazel  eye  of  fire, 

And  dim  the  ray  that  could  inspire 
My  little  heart  with  boldness  not  its  own. 

Yet  still  he  crawled  to  lick  my  feet, 

And  chose  his  bed  beside  my  seat, 
Looked  up,  and  wagged  his  tail  when  I  was  by; 

And  when  quite  blind,  with  lifted  ears, 

Soon  as  the  well  known  voice  he  hears. 
He  told  ('twas  all  he  could)  his  friend  was  nigh! 


140 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


Poor  faithful  brute!  thy  love  so  true 

Ne'er  waned,  as  human  friendships  do; 
Not  e'en  unkindness  could  thy  zeal  repress, 

For  did  one  smile  but  beam  on  thee 

Forgot  was  every  injury — 
All,  all  p'erpaid,  and  lost  in  one  caress! 

Cold  is  thy  good  old  heart!  and  ne'er 
Shall  voice  of  man  this  bosom  cheer, 

As  could  thy  cry  that  echoed  to  the  morn, 
When  scouring  all  the  glittering  heath, 
Like  mist  was  seen  thy  streaming  breath, 

That  floated  on  the  early  breeze  unborne. 

Tablet  of  Taste, 


THE  LAWS. 

f 

Is  it  not  of  vital  importance  that  the  meat  on  which 
people  feed  should  be  healthful  ?  and  to  be  healthful,  is 
it  not  necessary  that  it  should  be  taken  from  a  healthy 
animal  body,  and  not  from  a  morbid  carcass  which  has 
been  starved,  parched,  beaten,  bruised  and  tortured  for 
the  last  twelve,  twenty-four,  or  forty-eight  hours,  as  the 
case  may  be  ?  Our  board  of  health,  desirous  of  re- 
moving the  most  obvious  causes  of  disease,  gave  this 
subject  their  early  attention.  At  the  first  appearance 
of  cholera  in  this  city,  the  health  officer  wrote  to  them 
(July  4,  1832)  as  follows: 

■ 'I  deem  it  my  duty  to  call  the  attention  of  the  board 
to  the  manner  in  which  the  butchers  at  the  different 
markets,  &c,  keep  their  calves,  sheep  and  lambs  lying 
in  the  street  before  they  are  slaughtered.  Animals  con- 
fined in  this  way  become  diseased,  and  their  meat  is 
above  all  conductive  to  the  cholera  morbus." 

Thereupon  the  board  resolved:  That  the  clerk  of 
the  market  be  instructed  to  prevent  the  sale  of  ani- 
mals which  have  been  known  to  have  been  inhumanly 
and  improperly  confined  and  exposed,  as  being  in  the 
opinion  of  this  board  umohoJesome  meat,  and  subjecting 


THE  LAWS. 


141 


persons  to  the  penalty  under  corporation  ordinance. 
And  further,  that  the  police  justice  be  required  to  obtain 
the  names  of  such  persons  to  present  to  the  grand  jury 
as  an  offence  at  common  law,  for  cruelty  to  animals. 

The  corporation  have  since,  by  law,  prohibited  the 
slaughtering  of  animals  within  certain  limits.  But  as 
the  treatment  of  the  brute  creatures  is  removed  from  the 
observation  of  the  citizens  who  are  to  derive  their 
nourishment  or  disease  from  the  meat,  what  guarantee 
have  these  citizens  that  the  animals  are  not  murdered 
with  aggravated  and  protracted  torture?  If  their  inhu- 
man usage  was  so  glaring  even  in  public  markets,  ex- 
posed to  the  gaze  of  the  whole  city,  what  must  it 
be  in  the  private  slaughter  house  or  yard,  unseen,  un- 
heard, unnoticed  ? 

The  remedy  for  this  crying  sin,  this  immense  sum  of 
needless  cruelty  towards  inoffensive  and  useful  animals, 
and  danger  to  the  health  and  lives  of  our  citizens,  is 
simple.  Let  the  slaughter  houses,  yards,  &c,  be  open 
for  the  inspection  of  all  who  take  an  interest  in  the  sub- 
ject, and  let  inspectors  be  appointed  to  examine  all 
slaughtering  and  packing  establishments,  and  to  bring  to 
public  exposure  and  condign  punishment  all  offenders. 

By  the  laws  of  the  city  of  Albany  (chap.  3,  sec.  16), 
"Any  cartman  who  shall  be  guilty  of  cruelty  to  his  horse 
shall  be  suspended  from  being  a  cartman,  and  pay  a  fine 
of  five  dollars."  Should  not  a  similar  additional  punish- 
ment for  offending  butchers  and  drovers,  be  added  to  the 
existing  laws  regulating  the  market? 

Every  physiologist  knows  the  sudden  and  important 
results  arising  from  the  transfusion  of  blood;  every 
nurse  knows  the  almost  immediate  effect  of  her  own  food 
upon  the  sucking  child,  and  every  reflecting  mind  must 
perceive  the  direct  influence  which  the  meat  of  a  panting, 
fainting,  thirsting,  fevered,  agonized  beast  or  fowl  must 
have  on  the  system  of  those  who  feed  on  it.  The  late 
Chancellor  Livingston  attributed  most  of  the  maladies 
which  attend  sheep,  to  injudicious  treatment  and  over 
driving  them.  The  philanthropic  John  Howard,  during 
the  latter  years  of  his  life,  abstained  from  animal  food, 
and  thousands  of  other  humane  individuals  have,  from 


142 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


principle,  confined  their  food  to  vegetables,  and  their 
example  would  be  followed  by  multitudes,  were  the  cru- 
elty of  drovers,  &c,  fully  exposed.  There  are  regular 
legal  inspectors  of  weights  and  measures,  and  of  the  dif- 
ferent branches  of  trades  and  craft,  to  prevent  imposi- 
tions and  violations  of  the  law.  It  is  high  time  that  we 
had  legal  officers,  duly  empowered  and  salaried,  to  in- 
spect the  slaughter  houses,  humanize  drovers,  and  farm- 
ers, and  remove  a  most  prolific  source  of  cholera,  by 
enforcing  the  righteous  penalties  of  the  laws. — Albany 
Daily  Advertiser,  under  the  editorship  of  James  Hunter. 

Besides  being  an  indictable  offence  at  common  law, 
there  are  also  several  express  statutes  against  cruelty, 
viz.  (part  16,  chap,  xx,  art.  5,  §  55):  "All  running,  trotting 
or  pacing  of  horses  or  other  animals,  for  any  bet  or 
stakes  is  a  common  and  public  nuisance  and  misdemean- 
or, and  all  persons  concerned  therein  as  principals  or 
accessories,  shall  be  deemed  guilty  of  a  misdemeanor, 
and  punished  by  a  fine  not  exceeding  $500,  or  by  impris- 
onment not  exceeding  one  year. 

Chap.  20,  title  16,  §  1,  4.  No  person  shall  kill  wild 
deer  from  Januarv  to  July  inclusive,  under  the  penalty 
of  $12.50. 

§  5.  No  person  shall  hunt,  pursue  or  destroy  wild  deer 
with  bloodhound  or  beagles  under  like  penalty. 

§  6.  No  person  shall  set  traps,  or  spears,  or  sharp 
stakes  to  catch  or  kill  deer,  under  $25  penalty. 

There  is  a  penalty  for  destroying  the  heath  hen,  part- 
ridge, woodcock,  pheasant  or  quail,  during  their  breed- 
ing time. 

Part  1,  chap.  1,  title  5,  art.  3,  §  16.  Every  person  who 
shall  willingly  administer  any  poison  to  any  horse,  cattle 
or  sheep,  or  shall  maliciously  expose  any  poisonous 
substance  with  intent  that  the  same  should  be  taken  or 
swallowed  by  any  horse,  cattle,  or  sheep,  shall  upon 
conviction  be  punished  by  imprisonment  in  a  state  prison 
not  exceeding  three  years,  or  in  a  county  jail  not  ex- 
ceeding one  year,  or  by  a  fine  not  exceeding  $250,  or  by 
both  fine  and  imprisonment. 

Title  6,  §  26.  Every  person  who  shall  maliciously  kill, 
maim  or  wound  any  horse,  ox  or  other  cattle,  or  any 


AFRICAN  SLAVERY. 


143 


sheep  belonging  to  another;  or  shall  maliciously  and 
cruelly  beat,  or  torture  any  such  animal,  whether  belong- 
ing to  himself  or  another,  shall  upon  conviction  be  ad- 
judged guilty  of  misdemeanor. — Revised  Statutes  of  N.  Y. 

Any  person  who  shall  confine,  or  aid  .  or  assist  in  con- 
fining any  bull,  steer  or  domesticated  animal,  by  tying 
or  penning,  for  the  purpose  of  bull  baiting  or  bear  bait- 
ing/ or  other  purpose  of  torture,  or  shall  aid  or  assist 
in  torturing  the  same  by  dogs,  whips,  spears  or  other 
instruments,  shall  forfeit  and  pay  a  sum  not  exceeding 
$100.— Laws  of  Ohio. 


AFRICAN  SLAVERY. 

Though  the  Africans  were  an  inferior  race,  still  we 
have  no  right  to  debase  ourselves  by  cruelty,  nor  to  use 
them  ill,  for  even  the  beasts  are  entitled  to  gentle  treat- 
ment; besides,  as  far  as  slaves  are  supposed  to  be  animals, 
they  must  be  incapable  of  moral  accountability,  and  to 
punish  them  for  criminal  conduct  must  be  both  absurd 
and  cruel. — Beattie. 

0!  does  not  mercy  shudder  to  behold 

Life-freedom  bartered  for  a  Christian's  gold! 

Yes — mark  the  wretch,  who,  torn  from  Congo's  sands, 

Uplifts  in  vain  his  supplicating  hands: 

Condemned  by  power,  by  trade's  unfeeling  lust, 

On  freedom's  soil  to  btfw  his  neck  to  dust. 

Inhuman  deed!  with  systematic  plan, 

To  sell  the  life — the  liberty  of  man! 

And  say,  ye  statesmen,  coldly  who  discuss 

The  fate  of  him  who  sadly  suffers  thus, 

Do  long  subjection  and  uneasing  toil, 

The  scourge,  the  chains,  the  fetter  and  the  soil, 

Unhinge,  undo  the  mental  fabric  so, 

That  nature  loves  habituated  wo; 

That  stripes  are  pleasures,  and  that  men  set  free 

Would  weep  for  freedom  as  a  misery? 

Thus,  thus  will  trade  unconquered  still  by  time, 

Raise  her  base  voice  to  cloak  the  hellish  crime; 


144 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


Thus  will  she  lift  the  lash  and  lifting  smile, 
As  blood-earned  lucre  centers  in  her  soil. 
Poor  friendless  slave!  though  sable  is  thy  skin, 
Thou  art  a  man — thou  hast  a  soul  within! 
Poor  wretch  alas!  when  will  your  woes  be  o'er, 
And  tyrant-stripes  extort  the  groan  no  more! 

Humfrey. 


TO  THE  GENIUS  OF  AFRICA. 

O  thou,  who  from  the  mountain's  height 

Roll'st  down  thy  clouds  with  all  their  weight 
Of  waters  to  old  Nile's  majestic  tide; 

Or  o'er  the  dark  sepulchral  plain, 
Recallest  Carthage  in  her  ancient  pride, 

The  mistress  of  the  main; 
Hear,  genius,  hear  thy  children's  cry! 

Not  always  should'st  thou  love  to  brood 

Stern  o'er  the  desert  solitude, 
Where  seas  of  sand  toss  their  hot  surges  high; 

Nor,  genius,  should  the  midnight  song 
Detain  thee  in  some  milder  mood 

The  palmy  plains  among, 
Where  Gambia  to  the  torch's  light 
Flows  radiant  through  the  awakened  night, 
Ah  linger  not  to  hear  the  song! 
Genius,  avenge  thy  children's  wrong! 
The  demon  commerce  on  your  shore 

Pours  all  the  horrors  of  his  train, 
And  hark!  where  from  the  field  of  gore 
\  Howls  the  hyena  o'er  the  slain! 
Lo!  where  the  flaming  village  fires  the  skies' 
Avenging  power  awake! — arise! 
Arise,  thy  children's  wrongs  redress! 
Ah!  heed  the  mother's  wretchedness, 
•  When  in  the  hot  infectuous  air, 

O'er  her  sick  babe  she  bows  oppressed, 
Ah  hear  her  when  the  Christians  tear 

The  drooping  infant  from  her  breast; 

Whelmed  in  the  waters  he  shall  rest! 


TO  THE  GENIUS  OF  AFRICA. 


145 


Hear  thou  the  wretched  mother's  cries, 

Avenging  power,  awake!  arise! 

By  the  rank  infectuous  air 

That  taints  those  dungeons  of  despair; 

By  those  who  there  imprisoned  die; 

Where  the  black  herd  promiscuous  lie; 

By  the  scourges  crimsoned  o'er, 

And  stiff  and  hard  with  human  gore, 

By  every  groan  of  deep  distress; 

By  every  curse  of  wretchedness; 

By  all  the  trains  of  crimes  that  flow 

From  the  hopelessness  of  woe; 

By  every  drop  of  blood  bespilt, 

By  Africa's  wrongs  and  Europe's  guilt, 

Awake!  arise!  avenge! — Southey. 

There  are,  gloomy  ocean!  a  brotherless  clan, 

Who  traverse  thy  banishing  waves, 
The  poor  disinherited  outcasts  of  man, 

Whom  avarice  coins  into  slaves! 
From  the  homes  of  their  kindred,  their  forefathers'  graves, 

Love,  friendship,  and  conjugal  bliss, 

They  are  dragged  on  the  hoary  abyss. 
The  shark  hears  their  shrieks,  and  ascending  to-day* 
Demands  of  the  spoiler  his  share  of  the  prey! 
Then  joy  to  the  tempest  that  whelms  them  beneath, 

And  makes  their  destruction  its  sport: 
But  woe  to  the  winds  that  propitiously  breathe,. 

And  waft  them  in  safety  to  port; 

Where  the  vultures  and  vampires  of  mammoth  resort;; 

Where  Europe  exultingly  drains 

The  life-blood  from  Africa's  veins; 
Where  the  image  of  God  is  accounted  as  base, 
And  the  image  of  Cesar  set  up  in  its  place. 

Montgomery. 

"That  men  have  the  same  disposition  to  outrage  hu- 
manity in  their  conduct  towards  their  fellow  men  as  to- 
wards animals,  and  that  they  give  it  free  scope,  when 
custom  and  the  absence  or  neglect  of  laws  permit,  is  ap- 
parent from  the  concurrent  history  of  all  countries,  in 


146 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


every  age.  Witness  the  degradation  and  misery  of  the 
Helots  of  Spartae  and  of  the  human  slaves  of  Rome;  the 
horrible  barbarities  inflicted  by  their  fellow  men  on  the 
natives  of  India,  and  Africa  and  America;  the  practice 
common  throughout  the  world  of  reducing  whole  nations 
to  bondage  by-conquest  ;  the  human  sacrifices  at  Otaheite, 
and  elsewhere ;  the  exposure  of  their  own  infants  by  the 
Chinese  and  by  the  Hindoos,  who  also  bury  alive  their 
widows,  and  the  atrocious  arts  of  robbers,  pirates,  liber- 
tines and  other  criminals. 

"Besides  captives  by  war  and  those  who  are  born 
slaves,  the  remaining  portion  of  the  human  race  are  in 
the  power  and  at  the  mercy  of  their  fellow  men,  though 
from  the  partial  protection  of  the  law  and  custom  in  a 
less  degree  than  animals.  All  the  subjects  of  despotic 
governments,  and  in  others,  and  soldiers,  sailors,  ap- 
prentices, servants,  debtors,  wives  and  children^  paupers 
and  those  defective  in  mind  or  body,  as  idiots,  maniacs, 
the  blind,  the  deaf-and-dumb,  and  the  cripple,  are  prin- 
cipalhr  dependent  for  their  happiness  or  misery  on  the 
justice  and  humanity  of  those  who  have  authority  over 
them. 

"In  these  and  all  other  cases  of  partial  and  of  absolute 
slavery,  the  evil  arises  only  from  the  abuse  of  the  power 
of  the  master — were  he  just  and  generous,  the  greater 
his  power,  the  proportionably  greater  good  would  be  its 
consequence. 

"Liberty  itself  is  desirable  only  as  affording  exemp- 
tion— not  from  the  kind  assistance  and  enlightened  be- 
nevolence of  a  superior,  but  from  the  arbitrary  and  cruel 
control  of  a  tyrant." — Hippobion, 

Slavery  is  not  useful  either  to  the  master  or  to  the 
slave;  to  the  slave,  because  he  can  do  nothing  by  virtue; 
to  the  master,  because  he  contracts  with  the  slaves  all 
sorts  of  evil  habits,  inures  himself  insensibly  to  neglect 
every  moral  virtue,  and  becomes  proud,  passionate,  hard- 
hearted, violent,  voluptuous,  and  cruel.  The  slave  sees 
a  society  happy,  whereof  he  is  not  even  a  part;  he  finds 
that  security  is  established  for  others,  but  not  for  him; 
he  perceives  that  his  master  has  a  soul  capable  of  self- 
advancement,  while  his  own  is  violently  and  forever  re- 


AFRICAN    SLAVERY.  147 

pressed.  Nothing  puts  one  nearer  the  condition  of  the 
beasts  than  always  to  see  freemen  and  not  to  be  free. 
Such  a  person  is  the  natural  enemy  of  the  society  in  which 
he  lives. — Montesquieu. 

It  is  well  observed  by  the  wisest  of  poets  (as  Atheneus, 
quoting  the  passage,  justly  calls  Homer),  who  lived  when 
slavery  wTas  common,  and  whose  knowledge  of  the  hu- 
man heart  is  unquestionable,  that,  ''When  a  man  is  made 
a  slave,  he  loses  from  that  day  the  half  of  his  virtue." 

And  Longinus,  quoting  the  same  passage,  affirms: 
"Slavery,  however  mild,  may  still  be  called  the  poison 
of  the  soul,  and  a  public  dungeon." 

And  Tacitus  remarks,  that,  "Even  wild  animals  lose 
their  spirit  when  deprived  of  their  freedom." 

All  history  proves,  and  every  rational  philosopher 
admits,  that  as  liberty  promotes  virtue  and  genius, 
slavery  debases  the  understanding  and  corrupts  the  heart 
of  both  the  slave  and  the  master;  and  that  in  a  greater  or 
less  degree,  as  it  is  more  or  less  severe.  So  that  in  this 
plea  of  the  slave-monger,  we  have  an  example  of  that 
diabolical  casuistry,  whereby  the  tempter  and  corrupter 
endeavors  to  vindicate  or  gratify  himself,  by  accusing 
those  whom  he  himself  has  tempted  or  corrupted. 

Slavery  is  inconsistent  with  the  dearest  and  most  es* 
sential  right  of  man's  nature;  it  is  detrimental  to  virtue 
and  to  industry;  it  hardens  the  heart  to  those  tender 
sympathies  which  form  the  most  lovely  part  of  human 
character:  ic  involves  the  innocent  in  hopeless  misery,  in 
order  to  procure  [superfluous]  wealth  and  pleasure  for 
the  authors  of  that  misery;  it  seeks  to  degrade  into 
brutes,  beings  whom  the  lord  of  heaven  and  earth  en- 
dowed with  rational  souls,  and  created  for  immortality; 
in  short  it  is  utterly  repugnant  to  every  principle  of 
reason,  religion,  humanity  and  conscience.  It  is  impos- 
sible for  a  considerate  and  unprejudiced  mind  to  think  of 
slavery  without  horror.  That  a  man,  a  rational  and  im- 
mortal being,  should  be  treated  on  the  same  footing  with 
a  beast  or  piece  of  wood,  and  bought  and  sold,  and  en- 
tirely subjected  to  the  will  of  another  man,  whose  equal 
he  is  by  nature,  and  whose  superior  he  may  be  in  virtue 
and  understanding,  and  all  for  no  crime,  but  merely  be- 


148 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


cause  he  was  born  in  a  certain  country,  or  of  certain 
parents,  or  because  he  differs  from  us  in  the  shape  of  his 
nose,  the  color  of  his  skin,  or  the  size  of  his  lips;  if  this 
be  equitable  or  excusable,  or  pardonable,  it  is  vain  to 
talk  any  longer  of  the  eternal  distinctions  of  right  and 
wrong,  truth  and  falsehood,  good  and  evil.  It  has  been 
said  that  negroes  are  animals  of  a  nature  inferior  to  man, 
between  whom  and  the  brutes,  they  hold,  as  it  were,  the 
middle  place.  But  though  this  were  true,  it  would  not 
follow,  that  we  have  a  right,  either  to  debase  ourselves 
by  a  habit  of  cruelty,  or  to  use  them  ill;  for  even  beasts, 
if  inoffensive,  are  entitled  to  gentle  treatment,  and  we 
have  reason  to  believe  that  they  who  are  not  merciful 
will  not  obtain  mercy.  Besides  if  we  were  to  admit  this 
theory,  we  should  be  much  at  a  loss  to  determine  whether 
the  negro  does  really  partake  so  much  of  the  brute,  as  to 
lose  that  right  of  liberty  which,  unless  it  be  forfeited  by 
criminal  conduct,  is  inherent  in  every  human,  or  at  least, 
in  every  rational  being.  And  further,  in  the  same  pro- 
portion in  which  black  men  are  supposed  to  be  brutes, 
they  must  be  supposed  incapable  of  moral  notions,  and 
consequently  not  accountable  for  their  conduct,  and  there- 
fore to  punish  them  as  criminals,  must  always  be  in  a 
certain  degree,  both  absurd  and  cruel.  But,  I  think,  that 
our  planters  know  both  negroes  and  mulattoes  too  well 
to  have  any  doubt  of  their  being  men. 

The  very  soil  becomes  more  fertile  under  the  hands  of 
freemen.  6 'Liberty  and  property,"  says  the  intelligent 
Le  Poivre,  4 'form  the  basis  of  abundance  and  good  agri- 
culture. I  never  observed  it  to  flourish  where  those 
rights  of  mankind  were  not  firmly  established.  The 
earth  which  multiplies  her  productions  with  profusion 
under  the  hands  of  the  free-born  laborer,  seems  to  shrink 
into  barrenness  under  the  sweat  of  the  slave."  The  same 
sentiments  are  found  in  Pliny  and  Columella,  who  both 
imputed  the  decay  of  husbandry,  in  their  time,  not  to 
any  deficiency  in  the  soil,  but  to  the  unwise  policy  of 
leaving  to  the  management  of  slaves,  those  fields,  which, 
say  Pliny,  "had  formerly  rejoiced  under  the  laureled 
ploughshare  and  the  triumphant  ploughman."  Rollin, 
with  good  reason,  imputes  to  the  same  cause  the  present 


AFRICAN  SLAVERY. 


149 


barrenness  of  Palestine,  which  in  ancient  times  was  called 
the  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey. — James  Beattie. 

It  is  the  gracious  ordinance  of  Providence,  both  in  the 
natural  and  moral  world,  that  good  should  often  aris€ 
out  of  evil.  Hurricanes  clear  the  air,  and  the  propaga- 
tion of  truth  was  promoted  by  persecution.  The  Arab 
was  hospitable  and  the  robber  brave.  But  here  the  case 
was  far  otherwise.  It  was  the  prerogative  of  the  detest- 
able traffic  in  slaves  to  separate  from  evil  its  concomitant 
good,  and  to  reconcile  discordant  mischiefs.  It  robbed 
war  of  its  generosity;  it  deprived  peace  of  its  security; 
we  see  in  it  the  vices  of  polished  society,  without  the 
knowledge  or  the  comforts;  and  the  evils  of  barbarism 
without  the  simplicity.  No  age,  no  sex,  no  rank,  no 
condition,  was  exempt  from  the  fatal  influence  of  this 
wide-wasting  calamity.  Thus  it  had  attained  to  the  fullest 
measure  of  complete  unmixed,  unsophisticated  wicked- 
ness; and  scorning  all  competition  and  comparison,  it 
stood  without  a  rival  in  the  secure,  undisputed  posses- 
sion of  its  detestable  preeminence. — Wilberforce. 

Political  freedom  is  undoubtedly  a  great  blessing,  but 
when  it  is  compared  with  personal,  it  sinks  to  nothing. 
Personal  freedom  is  the  first  right  of  every  human  being. 
It  is  a  right  of  which  he  who  deprives  a  fellow  creature 
is  absolutely  criminal  in  so  depriving  him,  and  which  he 
who  withholds  is  no  less  criminal  in  withholding. 

Shall  we  sanction  enormities,  the  bare  recital  of 
which  makes  us  shudder  ?  Humanity  does  not  consist 
in  a  squeamish  ear,  nor  in  shrinking  and  starting  at  tales 
of  horrible  cruelty,  but  in  a  disposition  of  heart  to 
remedy  the  evils  they  unfolded.  Humanity  belongs  to 
the  mind  as  well  as  the  nerves;  but,  if  so,  it  should 
prompt  men  to  charitable  exertions.  Shall  we  continue 
the  wholesale  sacrifice  of  a  whole  order  and  race  of  our 
fellow  creatures;  and  subject  them  to  the  mere  will  and 
caprice,  the  tyrsumy  and  oppression  of  other  human  be- 
ings, for  their  whole  natural  lives,  them  and  their  pos- 
terity forever!  0  most  monstrous  wickedness!  0  un- 
paralleled barbarity! — Charles  J.  Fox. 

The  whole  commerce  between  master  and  slave,  is  a 
perpetual  exercise  of  the  most  boisterous  passions,  the 


150 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


most  unremitting  despotism  on  one  part,  and  degrading 
submission  on  the  other.  Our  children  see  this,  and 
learn  to  imitate  it;  for  man  is  an  imitative  animal.  This 
quality  is  the  germ  of  all  education  in  him.  From  his 
cradle  to  his  grave  he  is  learning  to  do  what  he  sees 
others  do.  The  parent  storms,  the  child  looks  on,  catches 
the  lineaments  of  wrath,  puts  on  the  same  airs  in  a 
smaller  circle  of  slaves,  gives  aloose  to  his  worst  pas- 
sions, and  thus  nursed,  educated,  and  daily  exercised  in 
tyranny,  can  not  but  be  stamped  with  odious  peculiarities. 
And  with  what  execration  should  the  statesman  be  loaded, 
who,  permitting  one  half  the  citizens  thus  to  trample  on 
the  rights  of  the  other,  transforms  those  into  despots,  and 
these  into  enemies,  destroys  the  morals  of  one  part,  and 
the  amor  patriot  [patriotism]  of  the  other. 

With  the  morals  of  the  people,  their  industry  is  also 
destroyed.  For  in  a  warm  climate,  no  man  will  labor 
for  himself  who  can  make  another  labor  for  him.  This 
is  so  true,  that  of  the  proprietors  of  slaves,  a  very  small 
proportion  indeed  are  ever  seen  to  labor. 

And  can  the  liberties  of  a  nation  be  thought  secure, 
when  we  have  removed  their  only  basis,  a  conviction  in 
the  minds  of  the  people  that  these  liberties  are  the  gift 
of  God  ?  That  they  are  not  to  be  violated  but  with  his 
wrath  ?  Indeed  I  tremble  for  my  country,  when  I  reflect 
that  God  is  just;  that  his  justness  can  not  sleep  forever; 
that  considering  numbers,  nature  and  natural  means  only, 
a  revolution  of  the  wheel  of  fortune,  an  exchange  of 
situation  is  among  possible  events;  that  it  may  become 
probable  by  supernatural  interference!  The  Almighty 
has  no  attribute  which  can  take  side  with  us  in  such  a 
contest — Jefferson. 

From  the  Genius  of  Universal  Emancipation. — Much 
has  been  said  by  the  advocates  and  apologists  of  slavery, 
about  the  danger  of  emancipation — that  it  would  be  ac- 
companied or  followed  by  insurrections,  massacres  and 
servile  war.  Now  no  sane  man  desires  to  turn  loose  upon 
society,  a  horde  of  ignorant  men,  either  white  or  b}ack, 
without  the  salutary  restraints  of  law.  We  wish  to  see 
the  assumed  right  of  property  in  human  flesh  abolished, 
and  the  laws  made  for  the  protection,  as  well  as  for  the 


AFRICAN  SLAVERY. 


151 


government  and  restraint,  of  every  man  of  every  nation 
and  color.  To  place  every  man  under  the  protection  of 
the  law,  and  to  abolish  that  licentiousness  and  tyranny 
which  are  now  tolerated,  would  be  to  restore  society  to 
its  natural  order,  and  give  every  man  an  interest  in  the 
preservation  of  the  peace  and  harmony  of  the  community. 
All  fear  of  hostility  and  temptations  to  excite  insurrec- 
tions, or  to  shed  the  blood  of  the  white  men,  would  be 
banished  with  the  removal  of  the  causes  which  produce 
them.  In  all  cases  where  the  experiment  has  been  tried 
[in  the  West  Indian  Islands],  our  reasoning  from  the 
nature  of  man,  and  the  influence  which  just  treatment 
will  always  exert  on  his  moral  character,  has  been  proved 
by  incontestible  facts. — Evan  Lewis. 

The  Africans  in  the  United  States  consist  of  upwards 
of  two  millions  of  slaves,  and  nearly  half  a  million  ad- 
mitted to  a  very  limited  state  of  freedom.  Slavery  is 
that  condition  enforced  by  the  laws  of  one-half  of  the 
states  of  this  confederacy,  in  which  one  portion  of  the 
community,  called  masters,  is  allowed  such  power  over 
another  portion  called  slaves,  as, 

1.  To  deprive  them  of  the  entire  earnings  of  their  own 
labor,  except  only  so  much  as  is  necessary  to  continue 
labor  itself,  by  continuing  healthful  existence,  thus  com- 
mitting clear  robbery. 

2.  To  reduce  them  to  the  necessity  of  universal  con- 
cubinage, by  denying  to  them  the  civil  rights  of  marriage; 
thus  breaking  up  the  dearest  relations  of  life,  and  en- 
couraging universal  prostitution. 

3.  To  deprive  them  of  the  means  and  opportunities  of 
moral  and  intellectual  culture,  in  many  states  making  it 
high  penal  offence  to  teach  them  to  read;  thus  perpetu- 
ating whatever  of  evil  there  is  that  proceeds  from  igno- 
rance. 

4.  To  set  up  between  parents  and  their  children  an 
authority  higher  than  the  impulse  of  nature  and  the 
laws  of  God;  which  breaks  up  the  authority  of  the  father 
over  his  own  offspring,  and,  at  pleasure,  separates  the 
mother  at  a  returnless  distance  from  her  child;  thus  ab- 
rogating the  clearest  laws  of  nature;  thus  outraging  all 
decency  and  justice;  degrading  and  oppressing  thousands 


152 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


upon  thousands  of  beings  created  like  themselves  in  the 
image  of  the  most  high  God! 

This  is  slavery  as  it  is  daily  exhibited  in  every  slave 
state.  This  is  that  "dreadful  but  unavoidable  necessity," 
for  which  you  may  hear  so  many  mouths  uttering  ex- 
cuses in  all  parts  of  the  land.  And  is  it  really  so?  If 
indeed  it  be:  if  that  "necessity"  which  tolerates  this 
condition  be  really  "unavoidable"  in  any  such  sense, 
that  we  are  constrained  for  one  moment  to  put  off  the 
course  of  conduct  which  shall  most  certainly  and  most 
effectually  subvert  a  system  which  is  utterly  indefensible 
on  every  correct  human  principle,  and  utterly  abhorrent 
from  every  law  of  God, — then,  indeed,  let  Ichabod  be 
graven  in  letters  of  terrific  light  upon  our  country! 
For  God  can  no  more  sanction  such  perpetual  wrong, 
than  he  can  cease  to  be  faithful  to  the  glory  of  his  own 
throne ! 

We  utter  but  the  common  sentiment  of  mankind  when 
we  say.  none  ever  continue  slaves  a  moment  after  they 
are  conscious  of  their  ability  to  retrieve  their  freedom. 
The  constant  tendency  for  fifty  years  has  been  to  accu- 
mulate the  black  population  upon  the  southern  states; 
already  in  some  of  them  the  blacks  exceed  the  whites, 
and  in  most  of  them  increased  above  the  increase  of  the 
whites  in  the  same  states,  with  a  ratio  that  is  absolutely 
startling  [the  annual  increase  in  the  U.  S.  is  60,000] ;  the 
slave  population  could  bring  into  action  a  larger  propor- 
tion of  efficient  men,  perfectly  inured  to  hardships,  to 
the  climate,  and  privations,  than  any  other  population 
in  the  world;  and  they  have  in  distant  sections,  and  on 
various  occasions,  manifested  already  a  desperate  pur- 
pose to  shake  off  the  yoke.  In  such  an  event  we  ask  not 
any  heart  to  decide  where  would  human  sympathy  and 
earthly  glory  stand;  we  ask  not  in  the  fearful  words  of 
Jefferson,  what  attribute  of  Jehovah  would  allow  him  to 
take  part  with  us;  we  ask  only — and  the  answer  settles 
the  argument — which  is  like  to  be  the  stronger  side? 

Slavery  can  not  endure.  The  just,  and  generous,  and 
enlightened  hearts  and  minds  of  those  who  own  the 
slaves  will  not  allow  the  system  to  endure.  State  after 
state,  the  example  has  caught  and  spread;  New  England, 


AFRICAN  SLAVERY. 


153 


New  York,  the  Middle  States  on  the  seaboard,  one  after 
another  have  taken  the  question  up,  and  decided  it,  all 
alike.  The  state  of  slavery  is  ruinous  to  the  community 
that  tolerates  it,  under  all  possible  circumstances;  and 
is  most  cruel  and  unjust  to  its  victims.  No  community 
that  can  be  induced  to  examine  the  question,  will,  if  it 
be  wise,  allow  such  a  canker  in  its  vitals;  nor,  if  it  be 
just,  permit  such  wrong.  We  argue  from  the  nature  of 
the  case,  and  the  constitution  of  man. 

All  masters  are  commanded  "to  give  unto  their  serv- 
ants that  which  is  just  and  equal!'.'  and  to  what  feature 
of  slavery  may  that  description  apply?  Just  and  equal! 
What  care  I  whether  my  pockets  are  picked,  or  the  pro- 
ceeds of  my  labor  are  taken  from  me?  What  matters  it 
whether  my  horse  is  stolen,  or  the  value  of  him  in  my 
labor  be  taken  from  me  ?  Do  we  talk  of  violating  the 
rights  of  masters,  and  depriving  them  of  their  property 
in  their  slaves?  And  will  some  one  tell  us,  if  there  be 
any  thing  in  which  a  man  has,  or  can  have,  so  perfect  a 
right  of  property,  as  to  his  own  limbs,  bones  and  sinews? 
Out  upon  such  folly!  The  man  who  can  not  see  that 
involuntary  domestic  slavery,  as  it  exists  among  us,  is 
founded  upon  the  principle  of  taking  by  force  that  which 
is  another's,  has  simply  no  moral  sense.  And  he  who 
presumes  that  God  will  approve  and  reward  habitual 
injustice  and  wrong,  is  ignorant  alike  of  God,  and  of  his 
own  heart.  It  is  equally  easy  to  apply  to  the  institution 
of  slavery  every  law  of  Christianity,  and  show  its  re- 
pugnance to  each  and  every  one  of  them.  Undeniably  it 
is  contrary  to  the  revealed  will  of  God;  and  so  the  gen- 
eral assembly  of  our  church  have  solemnly,  and  right- 
eously, and  repeatedly  ordained. 

"We  consider,"  says  that  body  in  1818,  "the  voluntary 
enslaving  of  one  part  of  the  human  race  by  another,  as 
a  gross  violation  of  the  most  precious  and  sacred  rights 
of  human  nature;  as  utterly  inconsistent  with  the  law  of 
God,  which  requires  us  to  love  our  neighbors  as  our- 
selves; and  as  totally  irreconcilable  with  the  spirit  and 
principles  of  the  gospel  of  Christ,  which  enjoins  that  all 
things  whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do  unto  you, 
do  ye  even  so  unto  them." 


154 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


Nature,  and  reason,  and  religion  unite  in  their  hostility 
to  this  system  of  folly  and  crime.  How  it  will  end  time 
only  can  reveal;  but  the  light  of  heaven  is  not  clearer 
than  that  it  must  end. — Robert  J.  Breckenridge. 

Man  finds  his  fellow  guilty  of  a  skin 
Not  colored  like  his  own;  and  having  power 
T'  enforce  the  wrong,  for  such  a  worthy  cause 
Dooms  and  devotes  him  as  his  lawful  prey.  . 
Thus  man  devotes  his  brother,  and  destroys; 
And  worse  than  all,  and  most  to  be  deplored 
As  human  nature's  broadest,  foulest  blot, 
Chains  him,  and  tasks  him,  and  exacts  his  sweat 
With  stripes  that  mercy  with  a  pleading  heart 
Weeps  when  she  sees  inflicted  on  a  beast. 
Then  what  is  man?.  And  what  man  seeing  this, 
And  having  human  feelings,  does  not  blush 
And  hang  his  head,  to  think  himself  a  man? 
I  would  not  have  a  slave  to  till  my  ground, 
To  carry  me,  to  fan  me  while  Tsleep, 
And  tremble  when  I  wake,  for  all  the  wealth 
That  sinews  bought  and  sold  have  ever  earned. 
No!  dear  as  freedom  is,  and  in  my  heart's 
Just  estimation  prized  above  all  price, 
I  had  much  rather  be  myself  the  slave, 
And  wear  the  bonds,  than  fasten  them  on  him. 

The  tender  ties  of  parent,  husband,  friend, 
All  bonds  of  nature — all  in  slavery  end. 
Oh!  most  degrading  of  all  ills  that  wait  * 
On  man  (a  mourner  in  his  best  estate!) 
All  other  sorrows,  virtue  may  endure, 
And  find  submission  more  than  half  a  cure; 
But  slavery!   Virtue  dreads  it  as  her  grave, 
Patience  itself  is  meanness  in  a  slave. 
Wait  then  the  dawning  of  a  brighter  day, 
And  snap  the  chain  the  moment  when  you  may. 
Nature  imprints  upon  whatever  we  see 
That  has  a  heart  and  life  in  it,  "Be  Free!" 

Cowper. 


AFRICAN  SLAVERY. 


155 


I  have  often  longed  to  go  to  America,  but  as  long  as 
that  country  is  tarnished  with  slavery,  I  will  never  pol- 
lute my  feet  by  treading  on  its  shores.  I  have  felt  it  a 
necessary  duty  to  arraign  the  conduct  of  the  Kussian 
despot  for  his  cruelty  to  the  men,  women  and  children 
of  Poland,  but  much  as  I  detest  his  actions,  there  is  a 
climax  to  my  hatred — "in  the  deepest  hell  there  is  a 
depth  still  more  profound,"  and  that  is  to  be  found  in 
the  conduct  of  the  American  slave  owners.  They  laid 
the  foundation  of  their  liberty  by  declaring  the  self-evi- 
dent truths  that  "All  men  are  created  equal,  and  endowed 
with  the  unalienable  rights  of  life,  liberty,  arid  the  pur- 
suit of  happiness,"  and  still  have  the  atrocious  and  mur- 
derous injustice  to  hold  their  brother  men  in  slavery. 

Daniel  O'Connell. 

Oh  Afric!  famed  in  story, 

The  nurse  of  Egypt's  might, 
A  cloud  is  on  thy  glory, 

And  quenched  thine  ancient  light; 

Ah  thou,  the  stricken  hearted, 

The  scorned  of  every  land, 
Thy  diadem  departed, 

Dost  stretch  thy  fettered  hand. 

How  long  shall  misery  wring  thee, 

And  none  arise  to  save? 
And  every  billow  bring  thee 

Sad  tidings  from  the  slave  ? 

Mrs.  Sigourney. 

General  Koskiusko,  by  his  will,  placed  in  the  hands 
of  Mr.  Jefferson,  a  sum  exceeding  $20,000  to  be  laid  out 
in  the  purchase  of  young  female  slaves,  who  were  to  be 
educated  and  emancipated.  The  laws  of  Virginia  pre- 
vented the  will  of  Koskiusco  from  being  carried  into 
effect. — Aurora. 

In  the  year  1787,  two  societies  were  established  in 
Philadelphia,  founded  on  principles  of  the  most  refined 
and  liberal  humanity:  The  Philadelphia  Society  for  alle- 
viating the  miseries  of  public  prisons;  and  the  Pennsylva- 


156 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


nia  Society  for  promoting  the  abolition  of  slavery,  the  relief 
of  free  negroes  unlawfully  held  in  bondage,  and  the  im- 
provement of  the  condition  of  the  African  race.  Of  each 
of  these  Dr.  Franklin  was  president.  His  name,  as 
president  of  the  abolition  society,  was  signed  to  the- 
memorial  to  the  U.  S.  House  of  Representatives,  Feb. 
12,  1789,  praying  them  to  exert  the  full  extent  of  power 
vested  in  them  by  the  Constitution,  in  discouraging  the 
traffic  of  the  human  species.  This  was  his  last  public 
act. — Franklin's  Biography. 

In  his  "Discussion  on  the  Duty  of  Mercy,  and  on  the 
sin  of  cruelty  to  brute  animals,"  Dr.  Primatt  takes  occa- 
sion to  advert  to  the  subject  of  the  African  slave  trade: 

4 'It  has  pleased  God  to  cover  some  men  with  white 
skins,  and  others  with  black;  but  as  there  is  neither 
merit  nor  demerit  in  complexion,  the  white  man,  not- 
withstanding the  barbarity  of  custom  and  prejudice,  can 
have  no  right  by  virtue  of  his  color  to  enslave  and  ty- 
rannize ,  over  the  black  man.  For  whether  a  man  be 
white  or  black,  such  he  is  by  God's  appointment,  and, 
abstractly  considered,  is  neither  a  subject  for  pride,  nor 
an  object  of  contempt." 

An  Example. — There  shall  be  neither  slavery  nor  in- 
voluntary servitude  in  this  state,  otherwise  than  for  the 
punishment  of  crimes,  whereof  the  party  shall  have  been 
duly  convicted.  Nor  shall  any  indenture  of  any  negro 
or  mulatto,  hereafter  made  and  executed  out  of  the 
bounds  of  this  state,  be  of  any  validity  within  this  state. 
— Constitution  of  Indiana.  [The  Constitutions  of  Ohio 
and  Illinois  are  similar.] 

Thy  spirit,  Independence!  let  me  share, 
Lord  of  the  lion  heart  and  eagle  eye; 
Thy  step  I'll  follow  with  my  bosom  bare-, 
Nor  heed  the  storm  that  howls  along  the  sky. 

Smollet. 


Aristotle,  one  of  the  ^chiefs  of  ancient  philosophers, 
being  reproached  for  giving  money  to  a  bad  man,  who 
was  in  want,  answered  with  his  usual  accuracy  of  dis- 
tinction, "I  did  not  give  to  the  man,  but  to  humanity." 


(157) 


THE  INDIANS. 
Thousands  have  raised  their  voices  against  the  wrongs 
of  our  black  brethren  of  Africa,  while  but  few  have  been 
stimulated  to  similar  exertions  in  behalf  of  the  red 
American  Indians,  from  whose  native  soil  the  wealth  of 
a  great  portion  of  the  civilized  world  has  been  derived. 
The  African  is  submissive;  his  patient  endurance  of  la- 
bor renders  his  servile  and  debased  state  important  to 
us;  he  is  therefore  preserved.  The  North  American 
Indian,  on  the  contrary,  prefers  banishment,  and  even 
death,  to  slavery;  but  his  lands  are-  serviceable  to  us, 
therefore  his  extinction  seems  to  be  desired.  The  one 
submits  to  the  yoke — we  oppress  and  pity  him:  the 
other  disdains  to  become  the  servant  of  man,  and  his 
whole  race  is  devoted  to  gradual  extermination;  for  such 
must  be  the  inevitable  consequence  of  all  those  measures, 
which  have  been,  and  still  are  in  operation  against  him, 
though  their  infliction  is  marked  by  different  shades  of 
guilt.  In  a  few  ages,  perhaps  a  few  years,  these  sons  of 
Edom  will  be  so  far  removed  from  the  reach  or  eye  of 
any  but  those  engaged  in  the  work  of  destruction,  that 
no  trace  will  be  left  to  posterity  of  the  wrongs  which 
have  been  perpetrated  upon  the  aborigines  of  the  great 
American  continent.  Their  virtues,  independence  of 
mind,  and  nobleness  of  character,  have  procured  from 
their  oppressors,  as  a  justification  of  those  measures  of 
severity  which  have  been  practiced  toward  them,  the- 
most  foul  and  unjust  representations.  They  have  been 
gradually  wasting  away  from  the  effects  of  cruelty  and 
oppression,  unheeded  and  unpitied,  until  their  aggregate 
numbers,  it  is  conjectured,  have  been  reduced  to  less  than 
two  millions.  A  sufficient  number,  however,  yet  re- 
mains to  excite  our  sympathy.  The  wrongs  which  have- 
been  inflicted  upon  their  whole  race,  have  furnished 
ample  regions  for  the  occupancy  of  civilized  man.  And 
does  not  our  past  neglect  of  their  suffering  and  abandoned 
state,  loudly  call  upon  us  to  make  reparation  for  the  ills 
they  have  endured,  and  to  return  to  acts  of  justice, 
mercy  and  kindness. — James  Buchanan  s  Indian  Sketches* 


(158) 


BENEVOLENCE. 

Wide  as  the  sun  her  high  dominion  spreads, 
Heaven-born  benevolence  her  bounty  sheds; 
She,  meek  eyed  goddess,  quits  the  angelic  sphere, 
To  banish  grief,  and  dry  the  human  tear. 

Plenty's  rich  urn  her  willing  arms  sustain, 
Life,  hope,  and  joy,  exulting  in  her  train. 
Her  ear  is  open  to  the  orphan's  cry, 
Her  soul  expanding,  as  the  poor  pass  by. 

From  her  blest  tongue,  the  words  of  manna  flow, 
And  carry  courage  to  desponding  wo. 
Objects  of  aid  she  seeks  through  all  the  land, 
Diffusing  bounty  with  a  savior's  hand. 

Through  prison  bars  she  darts  a  pitying  eye, 
Her  heart  responsive,  echoing  sigh  for  sigh; 
Nor  scorns  she  even  the  malefactor's  chain: 
She  mourns  his  guilt — but  mitigates  his  pain. 

The  wretch  she  asks  not  in  what  climate  bred, 
To  what  profession  or  religion  wed; 
That's  not  the  subject  of  her  mission  there — 
To  succor  all  who  want  is  all  her  care. 

These  are,  0  bright  benevolence,  thy  ways, 
And  these  the  solid  basis  of  thy  praise! 
When  Csesar's  fame,  and  Bonaparte's  are  past, 
Th'  effects  of  thy  philanthropy  shall  last. 

In  nature's  wreck,  the  juster  fates  shall  see 
Distinguished  worth,  and  fix  their  eyes  on  thee: 
A  preference  far  thy  honest  heart  shall  find, 
Before  the  proud  destroyers  of  mankind. 
Their  lapsing  honors  shall  forbear  to  save: 
And  thy  blest  name  shall  triumph  o'er  the  grave. 

The  Looking-glass  for  the  Mind. 


(159) 


PUGILISM. 

Humane  and  considerate  men  can  not  observe,  with- 
out concern,  the  prevalence  of  a  taste  for  any  diversion 
which  contributes  to  the  degradation  of  human  nature. 
That  the  taste  for  boxing,  unhappily  revived  in  the  pre- 
sent age,  has  such  a  tendency,  can  not  be  doubted  by 
those  who  duly  reflect  on  the  principle  from  which  it 
proceeds,  and  the  consequence  it  tends  to  produce.  Such 
a  taste  must  proceed  from  gross  ignorance  of  better  and 
more  manly  pleasures,  and  from  a  savage  heart,  restrained 
only  by  human  laws  from  the  actual  perpetration  of  the 
worst  cruelty. 

The  consequences  of  this  taste,  to  individuals  and  to 
society,  are  truly  deplorable.  When  the  combat  is  an- 
nounced, all  the  vilest  members  of  the  community  are 
eager  to  partake  in  an  amusement  congenial  to  their 
corrupted  natures.  The  scene  of  action  is  crowded 
with  an  assemblage  of  wretches,  who  conduct,  under 
their  triumphant  banners,  riot,  intemperance,  violence; 
who  defy  all  civil  order,  all  decency,  every  thing,  for 
which  laws  were  enacted,  and  society  established.  A 
successful  example  is  given  of  disobedience  to  law, 
which  paves  the  way  to  anarchy,  revolt,  and  rebellion* 
An  insult  is  offered  to  the  civil  magistracy,  which  those 
who  encourage  it  may  hereafter  rue,  when  they  feel  the 
consequent  depredations  on  their  property,  their  persons 
and  their  peace. 

The  lower  orders  are  taught  to  believe,  what  indeed 
they  are  at  all  times  ready  to  suppose,  that  there  is  an 
excellence  which  the  greatest  man  in  the  nation  may  ad- 
mire, in  the  exercise  of  a  mere  brute  force,  in  defeating 
their  neighbor  by  violence,  without  equity;  and  in  strik- 
ing a  terror  into  the  minds  of  the  good  and  orderly, 
who  are  not  endowed  with  muscular  vigor  and  superior 
size.  Government  was  instituted  to  protect  the  weak 
against  the  strong;  but  the  boxing  rage  contributes  to 
increase  the  tendency  of  the  strong  to  injure  and  oppress 
the  weak. 


160 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


It  has  been  the  scope  of  all  who  have  labored  in  the 
civilization  of  mankind,  to  soften  the  native  ferocity  of 
the  human  heart,  to  control  its  propensity  to  violence 
and  cruelty,  to  infuse  a  spirit  of  mutual  benevolence, 
and  teach  a  willingness  to  leave  the  redress  of  private 
wrongs  to  public  justice.  But  the  boxing  mania  does  all 
that  can  be  done  in  the  present  enlightened  times,  to 
bring  back  man  to  his  original  barbarity,  to  ignorance, 
to  selfishness,  to  injustice,  to  contempt  of  laws,  to  in- 
fringement of  property,  to  every  base  and  destructive 
action  and  inclination  which  the  laws  of  God  and  man 
have  uniformly  prohibited. 

To  bear  blows  without  regarding  the  pain,  to  inflict 
blows  without  feeling  reluctance  or  compassion,  argues, 
indeed,  an  insensibility  of  body  and  mind;  but  insensi- 
bility can  never  be  deemed  a  perfection;  can  never  pro- 
luce  that  sort  of  courage  which  derives  force  from  con- 
duct, that  sort  of  manliness  which  owes  its  value  to  its 
origin  in  reason.  An  attempt  to  reduce  men  merely  to 
machines,  in  the  hands  of  their  superiors,  is  of  so  base 
and  ungenerous  a  nature,  that  it  ought  to  be  reprobated 
by  all  who  have  any  real  manliness  in  their  character. 

The  plow  and  the  anvil,  the  axe  and  the  hammer,  will 
always  supply  a  race  of  men  with  sinews  strong  enough- 
to  undergo  all  the  hardships  and  labor  of  war;  and  the 
native  sentiments  of  such  a  race,  in  a  land  of  liberty, 
will  always  produce  a  spirit  sufficiently  manly,  without 
encouraging  any  practices  which  are,  of  necessity,  cruel 
and  savage.  Cruelty,  of  every  kind  and  degree,  has  in 
it  something  inherently  base  and  dastardly,  and  never 
can  be  compatable  with  real  heroism.  It  may  make  a 
bully  and  an  assassin,  but  neither  a  hero  nor  a  patriot. 
That  it  is  not  a  manly  spectacle  to  behold  two  fellow 
creatures  injuring  each  other  as  much  as  they  can,  by 
brute  force,  is,  I  think,  evident  from  what  has  been  al- 
ready said;  and  that  it  is  not  an  improving  spectacle,  is 
equally  clear,  if  it  be  true  that  the  heart,  by  becoming 
familiar  with  scenes  of  suffering  and  violence,  becomes 
obdurate  at  the  sight;  forgets  its  best  quality,  compas- 
sion; and  feels  less  reluctance  at  inflicting  pain  when 
under  the  influence  of  irascible  affections;  and  that  this 


PUGILISM. 


161 


is  true,  none  will  deny  who  know  the  force  of  habit,  and 
the  proneness  of  the  mind  to  evil.  The  taste  arises 
among  the  lower  orders,  from  natural  brutality,  or  a  wish 
to  get  money  by  entertaining  their  superiors  in  rank, 
who  have  disgracefully  professed  themselves  amateurs  of 
the  practice.  In  the  high  ranks  it  arises  from  thought- 
lessness,  wantonness,  and  a  gross  ignorance  of  better 
modes  of  spending  time— filling  the  chasms  with  science, 
polite  arts,  and  philosophy. 

But  there  is  one  great  teacher  who  will  be  heard;  and 
whose  arrival  may  probably  be  accelerated  by  reducing 
the  science,  which  they  admire,  to  practice.  His  instruc- 
tions will  cause  them  to  see  their  conduct  in  a  new  light, 
and  to  despise  their  choice  of  spending  the  short  space 
of  life  allotted  to  man,  in  a  behavior  more  brutal  than 
that  of  the  beasts  who  perish,  but  who  never  exhibit  the 
bloody  effects^  of  rage,  except  when  they  are  impelled  by 
real  passion,  in  defence  of  their  young,  or  the  necessities 
of  hunger. — Vicesimus  Knox. 

"He  leans  upon  his  hand— his  manly  brow 
Consents  to  death,  but  conquers  agony, 
And  his  drooped  head  sinks  gradually  low— 
The  arena  swims  around  him— he  is  gone 
Ere  ceased  the  inhuman  shout  which  hailed  the 
wretch  who  won!"  Byron. 

Had  the  poet  always  felt  and  written  in  the  same 
strain,  he  might  have  claimed  [also]  the  higher  rank  of 
one  of  the  first  of  moralists.  What  must  we  think  of 
the  state  of  degradation  in  which  the  Roman  people  were 
sunk  when  the  sight  of  human  blood  was  necessary  to 
gratify  their  passion  for  novelty,  and  to  preserve  to  their 
rulers  a  temporary  popularity?  Cruelty,  ferocity,  cow- 
ardice  and  laziness,  were  the  vices  cherished  by  such 
odious  sights;  and  it  is  a  fact  that  ought  never  to  be  lost 
sight  of  by  those  who  wish  to  improve  the  character  of 
society,  that  to  be  taught  to  look  with  indifference  on 
the  sufferings  of  any  living  object,  is  the  first  lesson  in 
cruelty. — The  Penny  Magazine. 


(162) 


AMIABLENESS. 

Since  trifles  make  the  sum  of  human  things, 
And  half  our  misery  from  our  foibles  springs; 
Since  life's  best  joys  consist  in  peace  and  ease, 
And  few  can  save  or  serve,  but  all  can  please; 
Oh!  let  the  ungentle  spirit  learn  from  hence, 
A  small  unkindness  is  a  real  offence. 

Large  bounties  to  bestow  we  wish  in  vain ; 
But  all  may  shun  the  guilt  of  giving  pain, 
To  bless  mankind  with  tides  of  flowing  wealth, 
With  power  to  grace  them,  or  to  crown  with  health, 
Our  little  lot  denies ;  but  heaven  decrees 
To  all,  the  gift  of  ministering  to  ease. 

The  gentle  offices  of  patient  love, 

Beyond  all  flattery,  and  all  price  above; 

The  mild  forbearance  of  another's  fault; 

The  taunting  word  suppressed  as  soon  as  thought; 

On  these,  heaven  bade  the  sweets  of  life  depend; 

And  crushed  ill  fortune  when  it  made  a  friend. 

A  solitary  blessing  few  can  find ; 

Our  joys  with  those  we  love  are  intertwined; 

And  he  whose  wakeful  tenderness  removes 

Th'  obstructing  thorn  which  wounds  the  friend  he  loves, 

Smooths  not  another's  rugged  path  alone; 

But  scatters  roses  to  adorn  his  own. 

Small  slights,  contempt,  neglect,  unmixed  with  hate, 
Make  up  in  number  what  they  want  in  weight : 
These  and  a  thousand  griefs  minute  as  these, 
Corrode  our  comforts  and  destroy  our  peace, 

More. 


(163) 


ELEMENTS  OF  MORAL  SCIENCE. 

There  is  in  our  nature  a  tendency  to  participate  in  the 
pains  and  pleasures  of  others ;  so  that  their  good  is  in 
some  degree  our  good ,  and  their  evil  our  evil ;  the  na- 
tural effect  of  which  is  to  unite  men  more  closely  to  one 
another,  by  prompting  them,  even  for  their  own  sake,  to 
relieve  distress  and  to  promote  happiness.  This  parti- 
cipation of  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  others  may  be  termed 
sympathy  or  fellow  feeling.  Even  for  some  inanimate 
things  we  have  a  sort  of  tenderness.  Toward  the  brute 
creation  who  have  feeling  as  well  as  we,  though  not  al- 
ways in  the  same  degree  or  kind,  our  sympathy  is  more 
rational,  and  indeed  ought  to  be  strong.  "A  righteous 
man  regardeth  the  life,"  and  is  not  insensible  to  the  hap- 
piness "of  his  beast."  But  our  sympathy  operates  most 
powerfully  towards  our  fellow  men.  Some  people,  how- 
ever, have  a  sort  of  negative  honesty,  but  are  destitute 
of  delicacy.  From  injury  punishable  by  law,  they  may 
abstain,  but  they  often  give  such  offence  as  amounts  not 
to  injury  only,  but  to  cruelty.  Sympathy  with  distress 
is  thought  so  essential  to  human  nature,  that  its  absence 
is  called  inhumanity.  Inconsiderate  men  are  seldom 
tenderhearted,  and  mere  want  of  reflection  leads  children 
into  acts  of  cruelty.  Let  us  cherish  sympathy,  for  by 
education  and  habit  it  may  be  greatly  improved.  "True 
self  love  and  social  are  the  same."  A  rational  self  love, 
or  desire  of  our  own  happiness  tends  to  happiness  uni- 
versal; for  that  must  be  beneficial  to  the  species,  which, 
without  injury  to  any,  promotes  the  good  of  the  indi- 
vidual, even  as  that  which  removes  disease  from  one  of 
the  limbs  contributes  to  the  health  of  the  whole  body. 
Self  love  so  excessive  as  to  injure  others,  or  selfishness, 
is  a  hateful  disposition.  By  doing  good  to  others,  we 
do  indeed  also  most  effectually  gratify  ourselves;  for 
what  can  give  more  pleasure  than  the  reflection  that  we 
have  been  instrumental  in  promoting  the  happiness  of 
others?  He  who  does  good  to  one  person  from  a  benevo- 
lent principle,  lays  an  obligation  on  the  whole  species; 


164 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


for  he  sets  a  good  example,  and  shows  that  he  has  the 
interest  of  mankind  at  heart.  Our  love  of  good  men, 
therefore,  partakes  of  the  nature  of  gratitude.  Patriot- 
ism has,  in  all  ages  under  free  governments,  been  ac- 
counted a  sublime  virtue.  A  particular  regard,  also,  for 
kindred,  friends,  neighbors,  &c,  is  beneficial,  as  it  pro- 
motes the  good  of  small  societies,  whereof  the  great 
communities  of  mankind  are  made  up;  but  neither  this, 
nor  the  love  of  country  itself,  should  ever  interfere  with 
the  still  greater  duty  of  universal  benevolence.  It  is 
our  duty  to  defend  our  country,  and  maintain  its  laws 
and  liberties;  even  as  it  is  incumbent  on  each  individual 
to  take  care  of  himself— of  those  who  depend  on  him — - 
and  of  those  whom  he  has  it  in  his  power  to  protect  from 
injury;  but  neither  individuals  nor  nations  have  any 
right  to  raise  themselves  by  injuriously  pulling  down 
others. 

Cruelty  and  torture  are  the  engines  of  arbitrary  power. 
Their  aim  is  to  frighten  the  subject;  and  they  always 
proceed  from  fear  in  the  sovereign  [or  tyrant  who  em- 
ploys them];  they  shock  humanity,  and  render  govern- 
ment unpopular,  without  answering  any  one  good  purpose. 

Benevolence  towards  the  brute  creation  is  called  hu- 
manity or  tender  heartedness.  and  very  properly,  for  he 
who  is  cruel  to  his  beast  would  be  so  to  his  servant  or 
neighbor  if  he  durst.  Useful  and  inoffensive  animals 
have  a  claim  to  our  tenderness;  and  it  is  honorable  to 
our  nature  to  befriend  them  by  exposing  them  to  no  un- 
necessary hardships,  making  their  lives  as  comfortable 
as  we  can,  and  if  we  must  destroy  them,  putting  an  end 
to  their  pain  in  an  instant.  Some  people  contract  a 
fondness  for  certain  animals,  as  horses  and  dogs,  which 
indeed  are  furnished  by  nature  with  the  means  of  recom- 
mending themselves  to  us  in  various  ways.  This  is 
improper  when  so  excessive  as  to  withdraw  our  affections 
from  mankind;  it  also  often  counteracts  benevolence,  as 
where  it  imprisons  for  life  a  singing  bird  or  other  ani- 
mal; mangles  the  ears  of  a  dog,  or  tail  of  a  horse,  or 
corrupts  a  child  by  indulgence  and  flattery.  A  tender- 
ness and  love  of  the  social  affections  and  charities,  not 
only  humanize  the  heart  of  man,  and  give  a  peculiar 


ELEMENTS  OF  MORAL  SCIENCE. 


165 


and  exquisite  relish  to  all  the  comforts  of  domestic  life, 
but  also  cherish  that  elevating  principle,  a  sense  of  honor 
which  heightens  the  gracefulness,  and  adds  to  the  sta- 
bility even  of  virtue  itself. 

All  the  things  in  this  world  may  be  reduced  to  three 
classes,  rational,  irrational  and  inanimate.  Of  rational 
beings  it  is  irrational  to  make  property,  so  as  to  buy  or 
sell  them,  or  give  them  away  into  the  absolute  disposal 
of  another.  Inanimate  things  may  be  made  property  of, 
because  without  them  we  could  not  subsist,  and  because 
they  would  be  useless  if  we  and  other  animals  did  not 
use  them.  Irrational  animals  may  also  be  appropriated, 
both  for  labor  and  for  food;  provided  it  be  done  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  promote  the  good  of  man,  who  is  the 
chief  inhabitant  of  this  world,  without  doing  injury  to 
them.  Animals  that  would  destroy  us  if  they  could,  we 
have  a  right  to  destroy  [when  necessary]  in  self  defence. 
To  many  others  of  a  milder  nature,  our  protection  may 
be  a  great  benefit,  and  death  with  a  little  or  no  pain  is  a 
less  misfortune  than  a  lingering  death  would  be.  But 
let  it  be  remembered  that  all  animals  are  percipient  be- 
ings, and  ought  to  be  treated  with  no  unreasonable  or 
avoidable  rigor;  and  permitted  to  suffer  as  little  pain 
as  may  be;  and  when  we  have  occasion  to  kill  them,  we 
ought  to  do  it,  if  possible,  in  an  instant. — J.  Beattie. 

To  prevent  the  dangerous  consequences  of  too  much 
study.  Mr.  Beattie  put  his  son  James  Hay,  to  archery, 
fishing  and  fowling;  but  he  left  off  the  last,  from  princi- 
ples of  humanity,  although  he  continued  the  practice  of 
angling,  as  thinking  there  could  be  nothing  wrong,  in 
that  which  was  practiced  by  the  first  teachers  of  Christ- 
ianity: but  never  engaged  in  any  species  of  it,  which 
tended  to  give  great  pain,  or  protract  the  sufferings  of 
the  poor  animals. — Life  of  J.  Hay  Beattie. 

First  of  all,  the  wild  mischievous  animals  were  selected 
for  food,  and  then  the  birds  and  fishes  were  dragged  to 
slaughter;  next  the  human  appetite  directed  itself  against 
the  laborious  ox,  the  useful  and  fleece-bearing  sheep,  and 
the  cock,  the  guardian  of  the  house.  At  last,  by  this 
preparatory  discipline,  man  became  matured  for  human 
massacres,  slaughters  and  wars. — Plutarch. 


(166) 


SENSIBILITY. 

Let  not  the  vulgar  scoff  the  pensive  strain, 
Their  jests  the  tender  anguish  would  profane: 
Yet  these  some  deem  the  happiest  of  their  kind, 
Whose  low  enjoyments  never  reach  the  mind: 
Who  ne'er  a  pain  but  for  themselves  have  known; 
Who  ne'er  have  felt  a  sorrow  but  their  own: 
Who  call  romantic,  every  finer  thought 
Conceived  by  pity,  or  by  friendship  wrought. 
Then  wherefore  happy  ?  Where's  the  kindred  mind? 
Where  the  large  soul  that  takes  in  human  kind  ? 
Where  the  best  passions  of  the  mortal  breast  ? 
Where  the  warm  blessing,  when  another's  blest  ? 
Where  the  soft  lenitives  of  others'  pain, 
The  social  sympathy — the  sense  humane  ? 
The  sigh  of  rapture  and  the  tear  of  joy; 
Anguish  that  charms,  and  transports  that  destroy  ? 
For  tender  sorrow  has  her  pleasures  too; 
Pleasures  which  prosperous  dullness  never  knew! 
She  never  knew  in  all  her  coarser  bliss 
The  sacred  rapture  of  a  pain  like  this! 
Nor  thinks  the  cautious  only  are  the  just. 
Who  never  was  deceived  I  would  not  trust. 
Then  take,  ye  happy  vulgar!  take  your  part 
Of  sordid  joy,  that  never  touched  the  heart. 
Benevolence,  which  seldom  stays  to  choose, 
Lest  pausing  prudence  teach  her  to  refuse, 
Friendship  which  once  determined,  never  swerves, 
Weighs  ere  it  trusts;  but  weighs  not  ere  it  serves, 
And  soft-eyed  pity;  and  forgiveness  bland, 
And  melting  charity  with  open  hand, 
And  artless  love  believing  and  believed; 
And  generous  confidence  which  ne'er  deceived; 
And  mercy  stretching  out  ere  want  can  speak, 
To  wipe  the  tear  from  pale  affliction's  cheek. 
These  ye  have  never  known!  then  take  your  part 
Of  sordid  joy,  which  never  touched  the  heart! 

Hannah  More. 


SENSIBILITY. 


167 


Good  nature  does  not  confine  itself  to  our  own  species. 
It  extends  to  the  brute  creation  who  are  equally  subject 

;  to  pain  with  ourselves.  To  torment,  therefore,  any  an- 
imal, because  it  is  in  our  power,  is  such  an  act  of  cruelty, 
as  I  should  be  sorry  to  see  young  persons  commit.  You 
should  not  only  discourage  the  least  inclination  in  your- 

:  selves,  of  inflicting  any  barbarity  on  brutes,  but  you 
should  always  express  your  detestation  of  it  in  others. 
When  it  may  be  necessary  to  destroy  them,  either  for 
subsistence  or  because  they  are. noxious,  it  should  be  done 
with  all  possible  tenderness,  and  in  a  manner  by  which 
the  least  pain  can  be  given.  But  to  prolong  the  pangs 
of  death,  in  order  to  gratify  a  pampered  appetite,  or  a 
depraved  humor,  denotes  a  savage  or  unfeeling  disposi- 
tion. The  love  which  parents  have  for  their  offspring, 
is  extended  through  all  animal  life.  "  To  rob"  therefore, 
"the  poor  bird  of  its  young,"  is  a  species  of  wanton  bar- 
barity. 

The  inferior  creatures  are  subject  to  our  superior 
power  or  sagacity.  But  the  divine  creator,  who  ''is  good 
to  all,  and  whose  tender  mercies  are  over  all  his  works," 
did  not  give  us  dominion  over  the  beasts  of  the  field,  that 
we  should  exercise  it  with  ferocity.  Their  usefulness  to 
us  demands  in  return  our  care  and  protection.  Yet  how 
often  do  we  see  them  treated  in  so  barbarous  a  manner, 
as  if  they  were  void  of  all  sensation!  But,  says  Shak- 
spear  e, 

 the  poor  beetle  which  we  tread  upon, 

In  corporal  sufferance,  feels  a  pang  as  great 
As  when  a  giant  dies. 

The  public  games  of  the  Romans  redounded  but  little 
to  their  credit  as  a  civilized  nation.  At  them  wild 
beasts  were  frequently  exhibited  fighting  with  one  another, 
jor  with  men,  trained  to  exercises  of  this  kind.  But 
though  in  our  own  country  we  are  strangers  to  this  sort 
yf  diversions,  yet  some  remains  of  a  similar  inclination 
are  still  to  be  seen  among  us.  The  cruel  sports,  which 
were  formerly  so  common,  are  now,  in  a  great  measure, 
suppressed,  by  the  humane  interposition  of  the  magis- 
:rate.    Yet  animals  are  frequently  tortured  in  our  streets 


168 


SPIRIT   OF  HUMANITY. 


for  the  amusement  of  the  populace.  And  there  are  some 
places  of  general  resort  not  altogether  free  from  this  re- 
proach; where  brute  creatures  are  introduced  in  a  variety 
of  attitudes,  for  the  entertainment  of  the  spectator. 
This  must  certainly  be  considered  as  a  species  of  cruelty; 
because  they  could  not  have  been  prepared  for  these  ex- 
hibitions, without  a  previous  severe  discipline.  You 
should,  therefore,  avoid  every  spectacle  of  this  kind;  be- 
cause of  its  tendency  to  render  you  insensible  to  the 
feelings  of  others. 

You  know  by  experience  that  pain  is  an  unpleasing 
sensation.  You  should,  therefore,  commiserate,  and  if 
possible  alleviate  the  pangs  of  animals.  To  be  diverted 
with  them,  discovers  a  temper  prone  to  cruelty,  from 
which  all  your  sports  should  be  totally  exempt.  To 
torture  flies,  birds,  or  other  diminutive  creatures  which 
are  too  often  the  objects  of  juvenile  pastime,  is  both  bar- 
barous and  cowardly.  It  is  barbarous,  because  it  is  wan- 
tonly inflicting  an  evil  upon  beings  whose  bare  existence 
is  an  enjoyment;  it  is  cowardly,  because  they  are  not 
able  to  defend  themselves  from  your  assaults.  "A  good 
man"  says  Solomon  "regard  eth  the  life  of  his  beast."  From 
the  same  benevolent  principle,  Moses  directed  the  Jews 
"not  to  muzzle  the  ox,  when  he  treadeth  upon  the  corn;" 
as  if  he  had  said,  "Permit  the  poor  animal  to  taste  of 
the  grain,  while  he  is  laboring  to  separate  it  from  the 
chaff  for  your  use." — Burton's  Lectures. 

To  conclude,  in  the  words  of  the  author  of  the  Polite 
Lady: — "Cherish  and  cultivate  benevolence  or  an  univer- 
sal love  and  good-will  to  all  your  fellow  creatures  with- 
out exception.  For  however  distinguished  by  country, 
climate,  language  or  complexion;  by  difference  of  religion 
or  politics;  by  wealth  or  poverty,  or  by  any  other  cir- 
cumstances, we  are  all  tire  children  of  the  same  parent; 
we  are  all  the  members  of  the  same  family,  and  there- 
fore should  treat  one  another  with  the  tender  affection 
of  brothers  and  sisters.  The  black  African,  the  tawney 
American,  and  the  white  European,  are  equally  entitled 
to  our  good  wishes  and  friendly  assistance.  It  is  no  con- 
sequence where  they  were  born,  what  language  they  speak, 
or  what  religion  they  profess;  whether  they  are  high  or 


SENSIBILITY. 


169 


low,  rich  or  poor;  it  is  enough  that  they  are  human  crea- 
tures.— Torrey's  Mental  Museum. 

It  is,  I  believe,  agreed  by  all  the  medical  profession, 
that  the  flesh  of  well  grown  animals  is  easier  of  diges- 
tion than  the  flesh  of  young  ones;  and  as  it  affords  a 
more  generous  nourishment,  a  smaller  quantity  of  the 
former  will  answer  the  purpose  of  a  larger  quantity  of 
the  latter.  It  will  then  be  proper  for  the  tutor  to  take 
special  care  that  the  flesh  of  [very]  young  animals  be 
banished  from  the  table  of  his  pupils.  Their  constitu- 
tion will  receive  advantage  from  it,  and  the  taste  they 
will  thus  acquire  be  more  agreeable  to  the  principles  of 
:  benevolence,  in  forbearing  to  destroy  life  almost  in  the 
first  moments  of  its  existence. 

Let  it  be  the  care  of  tutors  to  make  their  children  feel 
the  utility  of  benevolence,  by  being  themselves  the  objects 
of  it.  Let  no  capricious  partialities,  no  ill-founded 
preference  growing  from  personal  charms  or  accomplish- 
ments, from  the  gifts  of  genius,  set  them  an  example 
of  a  departure  from  the  strict  principles  of  equity,  and 
give  them  reason  to  complain  both  of  the  injustice  of 
nature  and  of  man. 

They  ought  not  to  be  suffered  to  ridicule  others  unre- 
proved.    Should  they  once  take  a  pleasure  in  the  pain 
I  they  give  the  human  mind,  benevolence  will  never  be  the 
I  leading  feature  of  their  character.    Certainly  every  tutor 
not  drawn  from  the  dregs  of  the  people,  would  prevent 
his  pupil  from  partaking  of  Domitian's  favorite  amuse- 
I  ment,  and  would  rescue  a  miserable  insect,  or  other  an- 
j  imal,  from  the  tortures  inflicted  by  a  wanton  fancy.  But 
would  he  not  suffer  him  to  extend  evil  in  other  modes  ? 
Would  he  prevent  him  from  robbing  birds  of  their  young  ? 
Would  he  shut  out  all  habits  of  cruelty,  by  keeping  him 
from  the  chase  and  other  sports  of  the  field,  or  from  the 
hardened  barbarity  of  putting  worms  on  a  hook  as  baits 
)  to  catch  fish  ?    Would  he  set  him  the  example  both  of  a 
negative  and  an  active  goodness,  in  a  total  forbearance 
j  of  every  unnecessary  injury,  and  in  the  seizing  of  all  op- 
i  portunities  to  do  acts  of  kindness  to  every  feeling  being. 

Mrs.  Catharine  Macaulay  Graham. 


16 


(170) 


PRACTICAL  EDUCATION. 

The  whole  sum  of  pleasure  is  much  increased  by  mu- 
tual sympathy.  This  happy  moral  truth,  upon  which  so 
many  of  our  virtues  depend,  should  be  impressed  upon 
the  mind;  it  should  be  clearly  demonstrated  to  the  reason; 
it  should  not  be  repeated  as  an  a  priori,  sentimental  as- 
sertion. Even  the  acquisition  of  talents  and  knowledge 
ought,  however,  to  be  but  a  secondary  consideration,  sub- 
ordinate to  the  general  happiness  of  our  pupils.  If  we 
could  have  superior  knowledge,  upon  condition  that  we 
should  have  a  malevolent  disposition,  and  an  irritable 
temper,  should  we,  setting  every  other  moral  considera- 
tion aside,  be  willing  to  make  the  purchase  at  such  a 
price  ? 

The  humanity  of  children  can  not,  perhaps,  properly 
be  said  to  be  exercised  upon  animals;  they  are  frequently 
extremely  fond  of  animals,  but  they  are  not  always  equa- 
ble in  their  fondness;  they  sometimes  treat  their  favor- 
ites with  that  caprice  which  favorites  are  doomed  to 
experience;  this  caprice  degenerates  into  cruelty,  if  it  is 
resented  by  the  sufferer.  We  must  not  depend  merely 
upon  the  natural  feelings  of  compassion,  as  preservatives 
against  cruelty;  the  instinctive  feelings  of  compassion, 
are  strong  among  uneducated  people;  yet  these  do  not 
restrain  them  from  acts  of  cruelty.  They  take  delight, 
it  has  been  often  observed,  in  all  tragical,  sanguinary 
spectacles,  because  these  excite  emotion,  and  relieve  them 
from  the  listless  state  in  which  their  days  usually  pass. 
It  is  the  same  with  all  persons,  in  all  ranks  of  life,  whose 
minds  are  uncultivated.  Until  young  people  have  fixed 
habits  of  benevolence,  and  a  taste  for  occupation,  perhaps 
it  is  not  prudent  to  trust  them  with  the  care  or  protec- 
tion of  animals.  Even  when  they  are  enthusiastically 
fond  of  them,  they  can  not,  by  their  utmost  ingenuity, 
make  the  animals  so  happy  in  a  state  of  captivity,  as 
they  would  be  in  a  state  of  liberty.  They  are  apt  to  in- 
sist upon  doing  animals  good  against  their  will,  and  they 
are  often  unjust  in  the  defence  of  their  favorites. 


PRACTICAL  EDUCATION. 


171 


Children  should  not  be  taught  to  confine  their  benevo- 
lence to  those  animals  which  are  thought  beautiful ;  the 
fear  and  disgust  which  we  express  at  the  sight  of  certain 
unfortunate  animals,  whom  we  are  pleased  to  call  ugly 
and  shocking,  are  observed  by  children,  and  these  asso- 
ciations lead  to  cruelty.  If  we  do  not  prejudice  our 
pupils  by  foolish  exclamations;  if  they  do  not,  from  sym- 
pathy, catch  our  absurd  antipathies,  their  benevolence 
towards  the  animal  world,  will  not  be  ill iberallj-  confined 
to  favorits  lap-dogs  and  singing  birds.    From  association, 

most  people  think  that  frogs  are  ugly  animals.    L  . 

a  boy  between  five  and  six  years  old,  once  begged  his 
mother  to  come  out  to  look  at  a  beautiful  animal  which 
he  had  just  found;  she  was  rather  surprised  to  find  that 
this  beautiful  creature  was  &  frog. 

If  children  never  see  others  torment  animals,  they  will 
not  think  that  cruelty  can  be  an  amusement;  but  they 
may  be  provoked  to  revenge  the  pain  which  is  inflicted 
upon  them;  and  therefore  we  should  take  care  not  to  put 
children  in  situations  where  they  are  liable  to  be  hurt  or 
terrified  by  animals.  Could  we  possibly  expect,  that 
Gulliver  should  love  the  Brobdignagian  wasp  that  buzzed 
round  his  cake,  and  prevented  him  from  eating  his  break- 
fast ?  Could  we  expect  that  Gulliver  should  be  ever 
reconciled  to  the  rat  against  whom  he  was  obliged  to 
draw  his  sword?  Many  animals  are,  to  children,  what 
the  wasp  and  the  rat  were  to  Gulliver.  Put  bodily  fear 
out  of  the  case,  it  required  all  Uncle  Toby's  benevolence 
to  bear  the  buzzing  of  a  gnat  while  he  was  eating  his 
dinner.  Children,  even  when  they  have  no  cause  to  be 
afraid  of  animals,  are  sometimes  in  situations  to  be  pro- 
voked by  them;  and  the  nice  casuist  will  find  it  difficult 
to  do  strict  justice  upon  the  offended  and  the  offenders. 

Children  should  be  protected  against  animals,  which 
we  do  not  wish  that  they  should  hate ;  if  cats  scratch 
them,  and  dogs  bite  them,  and  mice  devour  the  fruits  of 
their  industry,  children  must  consider  these  animals  as 
enemies;  they  can  not  love  them,  and  they  may  learn  the 
habit  of  revenge,  from  being  exposed  to  their  insults  and 
depredation.  Pythagoras  himself  would  have  insisted 
upon  the  exclusive  right  to  the  vegetables  on  which  he 


172 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


was  to  subsist,  especially  if  he  had  raised  them  by  his 
ofrn  care  and  industry.  Buffon,  notwithstanding  all  his 
benevolent  philosophy,  can  scarcely  speak  with  patience 
of  his  enemies  the  field  mice;  who,  when  he  was  trying 
experiments  upon  the  culture  of  forest  trees,  tormented 
him  perpetually  by  their  insatiable  love  of  acorns,  "i 
toas  terrified,"  says  he,  "at  the  discovery  of  half  a  bushel, 
and  often  a  whole  bushel,  of  acorns  in  each  of  the  holes 
inhabited  by  these  little  animals;  they  had  collected  these 
acorns  for  their  winter  provisions."  The  philosopher 
gave  orders  immediately  for  the  erection  of  a  great  num- 
ber of  traps,  and  snares  baited  with  broiled  nuts;  in  less 
than  three  weeks  nearly  three  hundred  field  mice  were 
killed  or  taken  prisoners.  Mankind  are  obliged  to  carry 
on  a  defensive  war  with  the  animal  world.  "Eat  to  be 
eaten,"  says  Dr.  Darwin,  is  the  great  law  of  nature. 
Children  should  not  conquer  the  natural  repugnance  of 
the  sight  of  the  struggles  of  pain,  and  the  convulsions  of 
death;  their  aversion  of  being  the  cause  of  pain  should 
be  preserved,  both  by  principle  and  habit.  Those  who 
have  not  been  habituated  to  the  bloody  form  of  cruelty, 
can  never  fix  their  eyes  upon  her  without  shuddering; 
even  those  to  whom  she  may  have,  in  some  instances, 
been  early  familiarized  recoil  from  her  appearance  in 
any  shape  to  which  they  have  not  been  accustomed. 

All  the  simplicity  of  youth  is  gone  the  moment  child- 
ren perceive  that  they  are  extolled  for  the  expression  of 
fine  feelings,  and  fine  sentiments.  Gratitude,  esteem  and 
affection,  do  not  depend  upon  the  table  of  consanguinity; 
they  are  involuntary  feelings,  which  can  not  be  raised  at 
pleasure  by  the  voice  of  authority;  they  will  not  obey 
the  dictates  of  interest;  they  secretly  despise  the  anathe- 
mas of  sentiment.  Esteem  and  affection  are  the  neces- 
sary consequences  of  a  certain  course  of  conduct,  com- 
bined with  certain  external  circumstances,  which  are, 
more  or  less,  in  the  power  of  every  individual.  To  ar- 
range these  circumstances  prudently,  and  to  pursue  a 
proper  course  of  conduct  steadily,  something  more  is 
necessary  than  the  transitory  impulse  of  sensibility,  or 
of  enthusiasm. — Maria  Edgeworth. 


(173) 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

All  men  having  the  same  nature,  have  the  same  natural 
rights;  their  rights  being  equal,  they  are  naturally  in  a 
state  of  liberty.  This  absolute  social  state  is  a  subject 
of  the  greatest  importance  and  of  unlimited  extent :  for 
what  can  more  become  the  dignity  of  human  nature,  than 
that  men,  states  and  nations  spread  over  the  face  of  the 
earth,  should  consider  themselves  and  one  another  as  the 
children  of  the  same  gracious  Father;  being  not  only  the 
work  of  his  hand,  but  also  the  objects  of  his  benign  love 
and  continual  care!  How  far  will  this  subject  extend, 
if  it  be  considered,  that  even  brutes  and  other  things 
have  an  absolute  social  claim  upon  the  human  race  ? 
Man  differs  from  other  animals  principally  in  this,  that 
his  soul  is  rational;  but  according  to  his  animal  nature 
he  has  numberless  determinations  in  common  with  the 
brutes. 

In  all  the  acts  of  impiety,  impropriety,  indecency,  in- 
justice and  oppression,  man  abuses  free  agency,  sins 
against  the  dignity  of  his  nature,  and  degrades  himself 
far  below  the  order  of  beasts.  Behold  the  excellence  and 
necessity  of  a  most  careful  performance  of  the  duties  of 
humanity,  with  respect  to  God  and  to  ourselves.  Of  the 
same  nature  are  our  duties  with  respect  to  the  brute  crea- 
tion, and  even  to  things  of  an  inanimate  nature;  he  who 
should  think  that  we  might  conduct  the  management  and 
use  of  them  in  quite  an  arbitrary  and  capacious  manner, 
would  give  us  but  indifferent  proofs  of  his  understanding 
and  heart;  both  reason  and  revelation  point  to  the  wise 
and  benign  design  for  which  they  are  given:  by  abusing 
them,  we  render  ourselves  ungrateful  to  God,  and  act  in 
a  manner  unbecoming  the  rationality  of  our  nature. 
Though  the  dumb  creatures  can  not  set  up  a  claim  of 
perfect  right;  though  things  inanimate  have  no  sense  of 
pain  or  satisfaction;  and  though  neither  of  them  can  ap- 
ply force  to  tyranny  and  abuse,  still  there  are  duties  on 
our  part — duties  of  humanity;  we  ought  to  conduct  our- 
selves in  that  respect,  as  indeed  in  all  other  occurrences 


174 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


of  life  comformably  to  the  will  of  God.  Show  me  a  man 
who  is  cruel  and  inhumane  to  brutes,  who  wantonly  de- 
stroys or  abuses  other  things,  and  a  thousand  to  one  but 
you  point  out  a  person  who  cares  little  for  God  and  his 
own  conscience. 

Would  it  not  be,  as  it  were,  a  new  heaven  and  a  new 
earth,  if  the  practice  of  the  duties  of  humanity  should 
become  coextensive  with  the  human  race,  compassing  all 
that  is  or  can  be  an  object  of  human  thought — all  men 
united  in  virtuous  sentiment  and  in  mutual  love,  con- 
spiring to  glorify  their  Maker,  zealous  to  befriend  one 
another,  and  to  be  benefactors  to  brutes;  all  of  one  ac- 
cord endeavoring  to  make  the  wisest  and  best  use  of  the 
gifts  of  Providence;  and  all  causes  of  strife,  animosity, 
hatred,  envy,  and  litigation  done  away  among  the  child- 
ren of  men!  Where  liberty  yet  upholds  her  standard, 
there  humanity  should  shine  in  an  amiable  display  of 
social  happiness! — Gros. 


PITY. 

Hail,  lovely  power  whose  bosom  heaves  a  sigh, 
When  fancy  paints  a  scene  of  deep  distress; 

Whose  tears  spontaneous  crystalize  the  eye, 
When  rigid  fate  denies  the  power  to  bless. 

Not  all  the  sweets  Arabia's  gales  convey 

From  flowery  mead  can  with  that  sigh  compare; 

Not  dew  drops,  glittering  in  the  morning  ray, 
Seem  near  so  beauteous  as  that  falling  tear. 

Devoid  of  fear,  the  fawns  around  thee  play; 

Emblem  of  peace,  the  dove  before  thee  flies, 
No  blood-stained  traces  mark  thy  blameless  way, 

Beneath  thy  feet  no  helpless  insect  dies. 

Come,  lovely  nymph!  and  range  the  mead  with  me, 
To  spring  the  partridge  from  the  guileful  foe, 

From  secret  snares  the  struggling  bird  to  free, 
And  stop  the  hand  upraised  to  give  the  blow. 


HAPPINESS  OF  ANIMALS. 


175 


And  when  the  air  with  heat  meridian  glows, 

And  nature  droops  beneath  the  conquering  gleam, 

Let  us,  slow  wandering  where  the  current  flows, 
Save  sinking  flies  that  float  along  the  stream. 

Or,  turn  to  nobler,  greater  tasks  thy  care, 

To  me  thy  sympathetic  gifts  impart: 
Teach  me  in  friendship's  griefs  to  bear  a  share; 

And  justly  boast  the  generous  feeling  heart. 

Teach  me  to  soothe  the  helpless  orphan's  grief; 

With  timely  aid  the  widow's  woes  assuage; 
To  misery's  moving  cries  to  yield  relief; 

And  be  the  sure  resource  of  drooping  age. 

So  when  the  verdant  springs  of  youth  shall  fade, 
And  sinking  nature  own  the  dread  decay, 

Some  soul  congenial  then  may  lend  its  aid, 
And  gild  the  close  of  life's  eventful  day. 

Murray's  Reader. 


HAPPINESS  OF  ANIMALS. 

It  is  impossible  to  view  the  cheerfulness  of  animals 
and  birds'without  pleasure :  the  latter  especially  appear 
to  enjoy  themselves  during  the  fine  weather,  in  spring  and 
summer,  with  a  degree  of  hilarity  which  might  be  al- 
most envied.  It  is  astonishing  how  much  man  might  do 
to  lessen  the  misery  of  those  creatures  which  are  either 
given  him  for  food  or  use,  or  for  adding  to  his  pleasures, 
if  he  were  so  disposed.  Instead  of  which  he  often  exer- 
cises a  degree  of  wanton  tyranny  and  cruelty  over  them, 
which  can  not  be  too  much  deprecated,  and  for  which  no 
doubt  he  will  be  held  accountable.  Animals  are  so  capa- 
ble of  showing  gratitude  and  affection  to  those  who  have 
been  kind  to  them,  that  I  never  see  them  subjected  to  ill 
treatment  without  feeling  the  utmost  abhorrence  of  those 
who  are  inflicting  it.  I  know  many  persons  who,  like 
myself,  take  a  pleasure  in  seeing  all  animals  about  them 


176 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


appear  happy.  Cows  will  show  their  pleasure  at  seeing 
those  who  have  been  kind  to  them,  by  moving  their  ears 
gently,  and  putting  out  their  wet  noses.  My  old  horse 
rests  his  head  on  the  gate  with  great  complacency,  when 
he  sees  me  coming,  expecting  to  receive  an  apple  or  a 
piece  of  bread.  I  should  even  be  sorry  to  see  my  poultry 
and  pigs  go  out  of  my  way  with  any  symptoms  of  fear. 

Jessie's  Gleanings. 


TREATMENT  OF  ANIMALS. 

y 

The  merciful  temper  will  show  and  exert  itself  not 
only  towards  those  of  our  acquaintance,  but  to  the  whole 
human  species;  and  not  only  to  the  whole  human  species, 
but  also  to  the  animal  creation.  It  is  a  degree  of  inhu- 
manity to  take  a  pleasure  in  giving  any  thing  pain,  and 
more  in  putting  useful  animals  to  extreme  torture  for  our 
own  sport.  This  is  not  that  dominion  which  God  origi- 
nally gave  to  man  over  the  beasts  of  the  field.  It  is, 
therefore,  an  usurped  authority,  which  man  has  no  right 
to  exercise  over  brute  creatures,  which  were  made  for 
his  service,  convenience,  support,  and  ease,  but  not  for 
the  gratification  of  unlawful  passions  or  cruel  disposi- 
tions. 

Benevolence  manifests  itself  by  being  pleased  with 
the  share  of  good  every  creature  enjoys;  in  a  disposi- 
tion to  increase  it;  in  feeling  an  uneasiness  in  their 
sufferings;  and  in  the  abhorrence  of  cruelty  under  every 
disguise  or  pretext. — Buck's  Theological  Dictionary. 

Man  has  duties  towards  those  creatures  which  with 
himself  enjoy  existence.  Neither  the  physical  nor  the 
purely  animal  nature  knows  aught  of  duty;  but  to  these, 
men  unites  a  third,  which  causes  him  to  view  his  actions 
in  relation  to  morality.  An  essential  faculty  of  the 
moral  man  is  benevolence,  and  this  forbids  him  to  tor- 
ment sentient  beings  for  his  pleasure.  All  cruelty  to 
animals  is  therefore  interdicted  by  natural  morality. 
Man's  benevolence  ought  to  restrain  him  from  the  com- 
mission of  every  act  of  cruelty,  either  against  the  lower 


TREATMENT  OF  ANIMALS. 


177 


animals  or  his  fellow  men.  Man  has  no  title  to  torment 
animals  in  any  way  whatever;  his  moral  part  forbids  all 
cruel  amusements,  and  all  indulgeances  at  the  expense 
of  suffering  to  any  living  and  sentient  being.-Spurzheim. 

Domestic  Animals. — Keep  up  such  a  sort  of  social 
and  friendly  intercourse  with  the  tenants  of  your  stables, 
barn  yards,  and  even  your  pig  sty,  that  they  may  be  as 
tame  as  kittens,  and  prick  up  their  ears  and  wag  their 
tails  with  joy  and  gratitude  whenever  you  approach 
them.  Animals  will  not  thrive  even  on  custard  and 
apple  pie,  if  they  must  eat  their  allowance  with  fear  and 
trembling,  expecting  every  moment  to  be  all  bat  annihi- 
lated by  their  cross  keeper;  who,  we  are  sorry  to  say, 
is  sometimes  more  of  a  brute  than  any  quadruped  under 
his  care.  Besides,  if  any  of  your  stock  should  be  sick 
or  lame,  and  need  doctoring,  you  can  better  handle,  and 
give  them  their  prescriptions  if  they  are  accustomed  to 
kind  and  familiar  treatment,  than  if  harshness  and  bad 
usage  had  rendered  them  as  wild  as  partridges  and  cross 
as  catamounts. — N.  E.  Farmer. 

It  seems  to  be  the  intention  of  Providence  that  the 
lower  order  of  animals  should  be  subservient  to  the 
comfort,  convenience  and  sustenance  of  man.  But  his 
right  of  dominion  extends  no  further;  and  if  this  right 
be  exercised  with  mildness,  humanity,  and  justice,  the 
subjects  of  his  power  will  be  no  less  benefited  than 
himself,  for  various  species  of  living  creatures  are  annu- 
ally  multiplied  by  human  art,  improved  in  their  percep- 
tive powers  by  human  culture,  and  plentifully  fed  by  hu- 
man industry.  The  relation,  therefore,  is  reciprocal 
between  such  animals  and  man;  and  he  may  supply  his 
own  wants  by  the  use  of  their  labor,  the  produce  of  their 
bodies,  and  even  the  sacrifice  of  their  lives;  whilst  he 
cooperates  with  all  gracious  heaven  in  promoting  happi- 
ness, the  great  end  of  existence. 

But  though  it  be  true  that  partial  evil,  with  respect  to 
the  different  orders  of  sensitive  beings  may  be  universal 
good,  and  that  it  is  a  wise  and  beneficial  institution  of 
nature,  to  make  destruction  itself,  with  certain  limita- 
tions, the  cause  of  an  increase  of  life  and  enjoyment;  yet 
a  generous  person  will  extend  his  compassionate  regard 


178 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


to  every  individual  that  suffers  for  his  sake,  and  whilst 
he  sighs 

"Even  for  the  kid  or  lamb,  that  pours  its  life 
Beneath  the  bloody-  knife," 

he  will  naturally  be  solicitous  to  mitigate  pain,  both  in 
duration  and  degree,  by  the  gentlest  mode  of  inflicting 
it. — Dr.  PercivaVs  Moral  and  Religious  Illustrations. 

Cows  should  be  treated  with  great  tenderness,  and 
soothed  by  mild  usage,  especially  when  young  and  tick- 
lish, or  when  the  udders  are  tender,  in  which  case  they 
ought  to  be  fomented  with  warm  water  before  milking, 
and  touched  with  gentleness;  otherwise  the  cows  will  be 
in  danger  of  contracting  bad  habits,  becoming  stubborn 
and  unruly,  and  retaining  their  milk  ever  after.  A  cow 
never  gives  down  her  milk  pleasantly  to  the  person  she 
dreads  or  dislikes. — Paper,  July  23,  1829. 

Humane  Naturalist. — Pierre  Lyonnet,  the  very  emi- 
nent and  learned  naturalist  of  the  Dutch  Netherlands, 
had  obtained  such  a  mastery  over  the  Latin,  Greek,  He- 
brew, French,  Italian,  Spanish,  German  and  English 
languages,  as  to  know  them  almost  as  well  as  his  own. 

His  observations  are  so  delicate,  that  they  appeared  at 
first  incredible;  and  he  was  obliged  in  order  to  secure 
the  confidence  of  the  public,  to  admit  several  persons  of 
known  ability,  such  as  Albinus  and  Allamand,  to  be  the 
witnesses  of  his  experiments. — -Penny  Magazine. 

Lyonnet,  in  his  anatomical  treatise  on  the  .willow  cat- 
erpillar, makes  known  to  us  all  the  parts  of  this  little 
animal,  more  in  detail  and  with  more  exactness,  it  may 
almost  be  said,  than  we  know  those  of  the  human  frame 
itself.  The  number  of  muscles  alone  which*  he  described 
and  delineated,  is  four  thousand  and  forty-one;  that  of 
the  branches  of  the  nerves  and  ramifications  of  the  wind 
pipe,  is  infinitely  more  considerable!  A  circumstance 
which  does  honor  to  the  feelings  of  Lyonnet,  no  less 
than  to  his  dexterity,  is  the  care  with  which  he  calls 
attention  to  the  fact,  that  he  only  required  to  sacrifice  in 
pursuing  his  inquiries,  a  very  small  number  of  insects; 
and  to  prevent  them  from  suffering,  he  suffocated  them 
in  spirits  of  wine  before  he  laid  them  open, — Cuvier. 


TREATMENT  OF  ANIMALS. 


179 


The  Lady  Bird. 

(^O!  Lady  Bird,  Lady  Bird,  why  dost  thou  roam 
So  far  from  thy  comrades,  so  distant  from  home? 
Why  dost  thou,  who  can  revel  all  day  in  the  air, 
Who  the  sweots  of  the  grove  and  the  garden  can  share, 
In  the  fold  of  a  leaf,  who  can  form  thee  a  bower, 
And  a  palace  enjoy  in  the  tube  of  a  flowef ; 
Ah,  why,  simple  Lady  Bird,  why  dost  thou  venture 
The  dwellings  of  man  so  familiar  to  enter? 
Too  soon  you  may  find  that  your  trust  is  misplaced, 
When  by  some  cruel  child  you  are  wantonly  chased, 
And  your  bright  scarlet  coat,  so  bespotted  with  black, 
May  be  torn  by  his  barbarous  hands  from  your  back; 
And  your  smooth  jetty  corslet  be  pierced  with  a  pin, 
That  the  urchin  may  see  you  in  agbnies  spin; 
For  his  bosom  is  shut  against  pity's  appeals, 
He  has  never  been  taught  that  a  Lady  Bird  feels; 
Ah!  then  you'll  regret  you  were  tempted  to  rove 
From  the  tall  climbing  hop,  or  the  hazel's  thick  grove, 
And  will  fondly  remember  each  arbor  and  tree, 
Where  lately  you  wandered  contented  and  free; 
Then  fly,  simple  Lady  Bird,  fly  away  home, 
No  more  from  your  nest  and  your  children  to  roam. 

Charlotte  Smith. 

Alexander  Wilson. — His  attention  was  first  turned  to 
natural  history  in  general,  as  appears  from  a  letter  to  a 
friend,  in  which  he  describes  the  state  of  his  own  apart- 
ment crowded  with  opossums,  squirrels,  snakes,  lizards, 
and  birds,  in  such  numbers  that  they  gave  it  the  appear- 
ance of  Noah's  ark.  While  others  were  busy  in  getting 
money,  his  heart  was  bent  on  gaining  a  familiarity  with 
the  works  of  nature.  One  little  incident  is  so  beautifully 
illustrative  of  his  character  that  it  must  be  given  in  his 
own  words.  Doubtless  there  are  readers  who  would 
laugh  at  such  feelings;  but  if  they  will  reflect,  they  will 
see  that  it  is  no  subject  of  rejoicing,  that  they  have  not 
been  created  with  minds  and  hearts  capable  of  sympa- 
thizing with  such  a  man  as  Wilson. — Spark's  Biography. 

' 'One  of  my  boys  caught  a  mouse  in  school  a  few  days 


180 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


ago,  and  directly  marched  up  to  me  with  his  prisoner. 
I  set  about  drawing  it  that  same  evening,  and,  all  the 
while,  the  pantings  of  his  little  heart  showed  that  it  was 
in  the  most  extreme  agonies  of  fear.  I  had  intended  to 
kill  it  in  order  to  fix  it  in  the  claws  of  a  stuffed  owl; 
but  happening  to  spill  a  few  drops  of  water  where  it  was 
tied,  it  lapped  it  up  with  such  eagerness,  and  looked  up 
in  my  face  with  such  an  expression  of  supplicating  ter- 
ror, as  perfectly  overcame  me.  I  immediately  untied  it 
and  restored  it  to  life  and  liberty.  The  agonies  of  a 
prisoner  at  the  stake,  while  the  fire  and  instruments  of 
torture  are  preparing,  could  not  be  more  severe  than  the 
sufferings  of  the  poor  mouse;  and,  insignificant  as  the 
object  was,  I  felt  at  that  moment  the  sweet  sensation  that 
mercy  leaves  on  the  mind,  when  she  triumphs  over  cru- 
elty."— A.  Wilson. 

>  The  Dormouse  Just  Taken. 

f 

Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  poor  captive  mouse, 
Oh  sleep!  unconscious  of  the  fate 

That  ruthless  spoiled  thy  cosey  house, 
And  tore  thee  from  thy  mate. 

What  barbarous  hand  could  thus  molest 

A  little  innocent  like  thee, 
And  drag  thee  from  thy  mossy  nest 

To  sad  captivity? 

Ah!  when  suspended  life  again 

Thy  torpid  senses  shall,  recal, 
Poor  guiltless  prisoner!  what  pain 

Thy  bosom  shall  appal. 

When  starting  up  in  wild  affright 

Thy  bright  round  eyes  shall  vainly  seek 

Thy  tiny  spouse  with  breast  so  white 
Thy  whiskered  brethren  sleek, 

Thy  snug  warm  nest  with  feathers  lined, 
Thy  winter  store  of  roots  and  corn, 

Nor  nuts  nor  beech  mast  shalt  thou  find 
The  toil  of  many  a  morn. 


TREATMENT  OE  ANIMALS. 


181 


Thy  soft  white  feet  around  thy  cage 
Will  cling,  while  thou  in  hopeless  pain 

Wilt  waste  thy  little  life  in  rage 
To  find  thy  struggles  vain. 

Yet  since  thouVt  fallen  in  gentle  hands, 
Oh  captive  mouse  allay  thy  grief, 

For  light  shall  be  thy  silken  bands, 
And  time  afford  relief. 

Warm  is  the  lodging,  soft  the  bed 

Thy  little  mistress  will  prepare, 
By  her  kind  hands  thou  shalt  be  fed, 

And  dainties  be  thy  fare. 

But  neither  men  nor  mice  forget 

Their  native  home,  where'er  they  be, 

And  fondly  thou  wilt  still  regret 
Thy  wild  woods,  loves,  and  liberty. 

The  Port  Folio. 

Birds, — The  farmer  accuses  the  woodpecker  of  boring 
his  trees,  when  he  only  enlarges  with  his  bill  the  hole 
which  the  grub  had  made,  and,  darting  in  his  long  ar- 
rowy tongue,  puts  a  stop  to  its  mining  forever.  Many  a 
poor  bird,  in  like  manner,  after  having  slain  his  thou- 
sands of  insects  which  were  laying  waste  the  orchard 
and  the  garden,  is  sentenced  to  death  as  guilty  of  the 
very  offences  which  he  has  been  laboriously  preventing. 
There  are  few  scenes  in  which  justice  is  so  completely 
reversed,  as  when  we  see  some  idle  young  knave  permit- 
ted to  go  forth  with  a  fowling  piece,  the  murder  crea- 
tures of  which  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  they  have 
done  more  good  in  the  world  (it  is  a  bold  speech,  we 
confess)  than  ever  he  will  do  evil,  and  applauded  for  his 
exploits  by  his  old  father,  who,  in  rejoicing  ignorance,, 
congratulates  himself  on  having  a  son  so  efficient  and 
useful.  We  hear  complaints  annually  from  all  parts  of 
the  United  States,  that  some  insect  or  another  is  destroy- 
ing the  fruit,  and  proposing  to  offer  a  reward  to  any  one 
who  will  discover  a  remedy.  Lest  we  should  be  antici- 
pated in  our  design,  we  would  say  that  we  mean  to  con* 


182 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


tend  for  that  prize,  and  to  secure  the  orchards  and 
gardens  by  protecting  the  birds,  and  offering  a  handsome 
bounty  for  the  ears  of  those  who  shoot  them.  Kalm 
tells  us  that  the  planters  in  Virginia  succeeded  at  last, 
by  legislative  enactment,  in  exterminating  the  little  crow, 
and  exulted  much  on  the  occasion.  But  it  was  not  long 
before  their  triumph  was  changed  to  mourning.  They 
found  that  the  acts  had  been  passed  for  the  benefit  of 
insects,  not  their  own;  and  they  would  gladly  have  of- 
fered a  large  bounty  to  bring  back  the  persecuted  birds. 
We  shall  not  plead  for  the  crow,  who  is  fully  able  to 
take  care  of  himself;  but  we  must  file  a  protest  against 
the  practice  of  destroying  the  birds  of  the  garden;  for, 
besides  depriving  us  of  the  beauty  of  their  appearance 
and  the  music  of  their  song,  it  lets  in  a  flood  of  insects, 
whose  numbers  the  birds  were  commissioned  to  keep 
down;  and  when  we  find  this  evil  growing  yearhy  year, 
as*  almost  assuredly  it  will,  there  will  be  little  consola- 
tion in  reflecting  that  we  have  brought  it  upon  ourselves. 

North  American  Review. 

Sad  the  bird  that  sings  alone, 

Flies  to  wilds  unseen  to  languish, 

Pours,  unheard,  the  ceaseless  moan, 
And  wastes  on  desert  air  its  anguish! 

Sad,  0  hapless  bird!  thy  fate 

The  plundered  nest,  the  lonely  sorrow! 
The  lost,  the  loved,  harmonious  mate! 
The  wailing  night,  the  cheerless  morrow! 
Edmond  O'Ryan,  translated  by  Charlotte  Brooke 

Dancing  Animals. — Geese,  turkeys,  cocks,  &c,  are 
taught  to  dance  by  the  following  cruel  method: 

The  wings  of  the  birds  are  bound  close  to  their  sides, 
and  then  they  are  placed  upon  the  arena  of  a  flag  stone, 
or  plate  of  iron,  beneath  which  is  a  fire,  and  the  sides 
of  which  are  barricadoed  sufficiently  high  to  prevent 
escape.  While  one  man  plays  a  lively  tune  on  the  organ, 
or  some  other  instrument,  another  blows  the  fire;  and 
as  the  heat  increases,  the  poor  creatures  lift  their  feet 
quicker,  until  the  vaults  of  their  contortions,  and  the 


TREATMENT  OF  FISHES. 


183 


rapidity  of  their  motions  may  be  supposed  to  represent 
a  dance.  The  system  is  persevered  in  until  the  birds, 
when  placed  upon  the  common  earth,  will  dance  in  a 
similar  manner  at  the  sound  of  music.  Bears,  dogs, 
monkeys,  &c,  are  taught  to  dance  in  a  similar  manner. 
The  more  savage  bears,  in  the  first  place,  are  muzzled, 
and  an  iron  ring  being  passed  through  the  nose,  are  sub- 
jected to  very  severe  discipline,  in  order  to  produce  that 
docility  which  we  see  them  exemplify  in  the  streets. 
They  are  then  placed,  by  the  contrivance  already  men- 
tioned, over  a  slow  fire;  and  when,  at  length,  at  the 
sound  of  the  organ,  he  will  assume  an  erect  posture  and 
walk  upon  his  hind  legs,  he  is  then  deemed  tit  for  exhi- 
bition ! — Unknown. 


TREATMENT  OF  FISHES. 

And  angling,  too,  that  solitary  vice, 
Whatever  Isaac  Walton  sings  or  says; 
-  The  quaint  old  cruel  coxcomb  in  his  gullet 
Should  have  a  hook,  and  a  small  trout  to  pull  it. 

It  would  have  taught  him  humanity  at  least.  This 
sentimental  savage,  whom  it  is  a  mode  to  quote  (amongst 
the  novelists)  to  show  their  sympathy  for  innocent  sports 
and  old  songs,  teaches  how  to  sew  up  frogs,  and  break 
their  legs  by  way  of  experiment,  in  addition  to  the  art 
of  angling,  the  crudest,  the  coldest,  and  the  stupidest 
of  pretended,  sports.  They  may  talk  about  the  beauties 
of  nature,  but  the  angler  merely  thinks  of  his  dish  of 
fish;  he  has  no  leisure  to  take  his  eyes  from  off  the 
streams,  and  a  single  bite  is  worth  to  him  all  the  scenery 
around.  Besides,  some  fish  bite  best  in  a  rainy  day. 
The  whale,  the  shark,  and  the  tunny  fishery  have  some- 
what of  noble  and  perilous  in  them;  even  net  fishing, 
trawling,  &c.,  are  more  humane  and  useful — but  angling! 
No  angler  can  be  a  good  man. 

"One  of  the  best  men  I  ever  knew — as  humane,  deli- 
cate minded,  generous,  and  excellent  a  creature  as  any 


184 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


in  the  world,  was  an  angler;  true,  he  angled  with 
painted  flies,  and  would  have  been  incapable  of  tne  ex- 
travagances of  I.  Walton." 

The  above  adlition  was  made  by  a  friend  in  reading 
over  the  manuscript.  "Audi  alteram  partem"  [hear 
each  side].  I  leave  it  to  counterbalance  my  own  observa- 
tion.— Byron. 

In  Loch  Alva,  I  had  fairly  hooked  a  very  large  pike; 
we  were  constrained  to  follow  the  monster  nearly  across 
this  great  lake.  My  tackle  was  uncommonly  strong,  but 
he  frequently  flew  out  of  the  water  to  such  a  height  that 
I  dreaded  losing  such  an  extraordinary  fish.  After  an 
hour  and  a  quarter's  play,  however,  we  landed  him,  a 
perfect  monster  in  size.  He  was  stabbed  by  my  direc- 
tions, in  the  spinal  marrow,  with  a  large  knife,  which 
appeared  to  be  the  most  humane  manner  of  killing  him. 

Col.  Thornton's  Sporting  Tour. 

Mr.  Barhydt's  is  a  short  drive  from  Ballston  Spa.  Just 
below  the  house  on  the  north  side,  amid  the  grove  of 
pines,  is  his  famous  trout  spring.  Cool  clear  water 
trickling  from  the  bank,  falls  into  a  wooden  trough, 
where  the  trout  are  kept  until  wanted  for  the  guest,  and 
where  by  sundry  contrivances  the  residue  of  their  short 
lives  are  made  as  comfortable  as  possible. — Albany  Ga- 
zette. 

Shell  Fish. — The  Snow  Pond  in  the  north  of  New 
Jersey,  is  so  called  from  its  extreme  whiteness.  This 
appearance  I  found,  was  caused  by  innumerable  small 
white  shells,  which  formed  a  border  to  the  pond,  three 
miles  in  circumference.  The  shells  extended  in  many 
parts  a  hundred  yards  from  the  shore,  and  a  cove  which 
extended  a  mile  was  completely  filled  with  them.  To- 
wards the  center  of  the  pond  the  bank  of  shells  declined 
suddenly  to  an  unknown  depth;  many  attempts  have  been 
made  to  fathom  it,  but  without  success.  The  shells  are 
extremely  minute,  none  of  them  more  than  three  lines  in 
diameter,  and  many  one-third  of  that  size.  They  ap- 
pear like  grains  of  sand.  The  quantity  amounts  to  many 
thousand  tons.  Recent  shell  fish  of  the  same  kind  are 
no  doubt  living  in  the  center  of  the  pond,  but  have  not 
hitherto  been  noticed  on  the  surface.    No  use  is  made  of 


TREATMENT  OF  ANIMALS. 


185 


this  immense  deposit  of  shells,  although  a  very  pure 
carbonate  of  lime.  A  small  dam  thrown  across  one  end 
of  the  pond  was  said  to  have  been  made  by  the  beavers. 
There  is  more  happiness  in  the  world  than  people  in 
general  imagine!  The  inhabitants  of  these  beautiful 
shells  have  enjoyed  their  mountain  lake  from  time  im- 
memorial— undisturbed  by  the  ambition  of  man,  they 
have  lived,  and  enjoyed  tranquility!" — Finch's  Tour. 


Bull  Baiting. — At  the  Spanish  bull  fights  the  magis- 
trate presides;  and  after  the  horsemen  and  piccadores 
have  fought  the  bull,  the  matadore  steps  forward  and 
bows  to  him  for  permission  to  kill  the  animal.  If  the 
bull  has  done  his  duty  by  killing  two  or  three  horses,  or 
a  man,  which  last  is  rare,  the  people  interfere  with 
shouts,  the  ladies  wave  their  handkerchiefs,  and  the  ani- 
mal is  saved.  The  wounds  and  the  death  of  the  horses 
are  accompanied  with  the  loudest  acclamations,  and 
many  gestures  of  delight,  especially  from  the  female 
portion  of  the  audience,  including  those  of  the  gentlest 
blood.  Every  thing  depends  on  habit.  The  author  of 
Child e  Harold,  the  writer  of  this  note,  and  one  or  two 
other  Englishmen,  who  have  certainly  in  other  days 
borne  the  sight  of  a  pitched  battle,  were,  in  the  summer 
of  1809,  in  the  governor's  box  at  the  great  amphitheatre 
of  Santa  Maria,  opposite  to  Cadiz.  The  death  of  one  or 
two  horses  completely  satisfied  their  curiosity.  A  gen- 
tleman present,  observing  them  shudder  and  look  pale, 
noticed  that  unusual  reception  of  so  delightful  a  sport  to 
some  young  ladies,  who  stared  and  smiled,  and  continued 
their  applause  as  another  horse  fell  bleeding  to  Ihe 
ground.  One  bull  killed  three  horses  off  his  own  horns. 
He  was  saved  by  acclamations  which  were  redoubled 
when  it  was  known  he  belonged  to  a  priest. 

An  Englishman  who  can  be  much  pleased  with  seeing 
two  men  beat  themselves  to  pieces,  can  not  bear  to  look 
at  a  horse  galloping  round  an  arena  with  his  bowels 
trailing  on  the  ground,  and  turns  from  the  spectacle  and 
the  spectators  w  ith  horror  and  disgust.- — John  Hobhouse's 
Notes  to  Childe  Harold. 


186 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


What  creature's  that,  so  fierce  and  bold, 
That  springs  and  scorns  to  lose  his  hold? 

His  teeth,  like  saw  hooks,  meet! 
The  bleeding  victim  roars  aloud, 
While  savage  yells  convulse  the  crowd, 

Who  shout  on  shout  repeat. 

It  is  the  bulldog,  surly,  brave, 
Like  bipeds  on  the  swelling  wave, 

Amidst  the  battle's  flood. 
It  is  the  bulldog,  ^dauntless  hound, 
That  pins  the  mourner  to  the  ground, 

His  nostrils  dropping  blood. 

The  stake-bound  captive  snorts  and  groans, 
While  pain  and  torture  rack  his  bones, 

Gored  both  without  and  in; 
One  desperate  act  of  strength  he  tries, 
And  high  in  air  the  bulldog  flies, 

Yet  tossed  to  fight  again. 

He  falls,  and  scarcely  feels  the  earth, 
Ere  innate  courage  shows  its  worth, 

His  eyeballs  flashing  fire, 
Again  he  dares  his  lusty  foe, 
Again  aloft  is  doomed  to  go, 

Falls,  struggles,  and  expires. 

Sporting  Anecdotes. 


THE  DOG. 

Dogs  are  honest  creatures, 
And  ne'er  betray  their  masters,  never  fawn 
On  any  that  they  love  not. — Otivay. 

The  dog  is  remarkable  for  its  natural  docility,  fidelity 
and  affection  for  its  master;  which  qualities  mankind 
are  careful  to  improve  for  their  own  advantage.  These 
useful  creatures  guard  our  houses,  gardens,  and  cattle, 
with  spirit  and  vigilance.    By  their  help  we  take  beasts 


THE  DOG. 


187 


and  birds,  and  pursue  game  over  land  and  through  wa- 
ter. In  some  nortliern  countries  they  are  made  to  draw- 
sleds  and  carry  burdens.  In  several  parts  of  China,  and 
by  the  West  Indian  negroes  their  flesh  is  eaten  as  ex- 
cellent food;  it  is  said  to  resemble  mutton  in  taste.  They 
were  also  used  as  food  by  the  Greeks  and  Romans. — En- 
cyclopedia. 

The  keeping  of  dogs  in  health  depends  much  on  their 
diet  and  lodging,  frequently  cleaning  their  kennels  and 
giving  them  fresh  straw  to  lie  on,  is  very  necessary;  in 
summer  time  deal  shavings  or  sand  instead  of  straw  will 
check  the  fleas.  If  you  brush  or  comb  your  dog  once 
or  twice  a  week  he  will  thrive  much  better.  A  dog  is 
of  a  very  hot  nature;  he  should,  therefore,  never  be 
without  clean  water  by  him,  that  he  may  drink  when  he 
is  thirsty;  the  greatest  relief  to  them  in  summer  is 
twitch  grass,  or  dog  grass;  when  this  is  planted  conven- 
ient for  them,  they  feed  freely  on  it  to  be  cured  of  sick- 
ness; for  want  of  this,  or  for  cleanliness  in  lodging, 
food,  drink,  &c,  he  becomes  mangy.  One  cure  for  this 
is  giving  finely  powdered  brimstone,  mixed  with  butter 
or  milk,  and  rubbing  them  daily  for  a  week  with  some 
of  the  brimstone  mixed  with  pork  lard  and  a  little  oil 
of  turpentine.  If  your  dog  is  bruised,  bathe  the 
wounded  part  with  salt  and  cold  vinegar. — Sportsman's 
Dictionary. 

Cruelty  Punished. — At  Abo,  in  Finland,  a  dog  that 
had  been  run  over  by  a  carriage,  crawled  to  the  door  of 
a  tanner  in  that  town;  the  man's  son,  a  lad  of  fifteen 
years  of  age,  first  stoned,  and  then  poured  a  vessel  of 
boiling  hot  water  upon  the  miserable  animal.  This  act 
of  diabolical  cruelty  was  witnessed  by  one  of  the  mag- 
istrates, who  informed  his  brethren  of  the  fact.  They 
unanimously  agreed  in  condemning  the  boy  to  punish- 
ment. He  was  imprisoned  till  the  following  market  day; 
then  in  the  presence  of  the  people  he  was  conducted  to 
the  place  of  execution  by  an  officer  of  justice,  who  read 
to  him  his  sentence: 

<k Inhuman  young  man!  because  you  did  not  assist  the 
animal  that  implored  your  aid  by  its  cries,  and  who  de- 
rives his  being  from  the  same  God  who  gave  you  life; 


188 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


because  you  added  to  the  tortures  of  the  agonizing  beast, 
and  murdered  it.  the  council  of  this*  city  have  sentenced 
you  to  wear  on  your  back  the  name  you  deserve,  and  to 
receive  fifty  stripes." 

He  then  hung  a  black  board  around  his  neck  with  this 
inscription:  "A  savage  and  inhuman  young  man!"  and 
after  inflicting  upon  him  twenty -live  stripes,  he  proceed- 
ed: "Inhuman  young  man!  you  have  now  felt  a  very 
small  degree  of  pain  with  which  you  tortured  a  helpless 
animal  in  his  hour  of  death.  As  you  wish  for  mercy 
from  that  God  who  created  all  that  live,  learn  humanity 
for  the  future."  He  then  executed  the  remainder  of  the 
sentence. — J.  Goldsmith's  Manners  and  Customs. 

Homer's  account  of  Ulysses'  dog  Argus  is  the  most 
pathetic  imaginable,  all  the  circumstances  considered, 
and  an  excellent  proof  of  the  old  bard's  good  nature. 
Ulysses  had  left  him  at  Ithaca  when  he  embarked  for 
Troy,  and  found  him  at  his  return  after  twenty  years. 

When  wise  Ulysses,  from  his  native  coast 
Long  kept  by  wars,  and  long  by  tempests  tossed, 
Arrived  at  last,  poor,  old,  disguised,  alone, 
To  all  his  friends,  and  e'en  his  queen  unknown; 
Changed  as  he  was,  with  age.  and  toils,  and  cares, 
Furrowed  his  reverend  face,  and  white  his  hairs, 
In  his  own  palace  ^forced  to  ask  his  bread, 
Scorned  by  those  slaves  his  former  bounty  fed, 
Forgot  of  all  his  own  domestic  crew; 
The  faithful  dog  alone  his  rightful  master  knew! 
Unfed,  unhoused,  neglected,  on  the  clay, 
Like  an  old  servant  now  cashiered,  he  lay; 
Touched  with  resentment  of  ungrateful  man, 
And  longing  to  behold  his  ancient  lord  again, 
Him  when  he*  saw,  he  rose,  and  crawled  to  meet, 
('Twas  all  he  could),  and  fawned,  and  kissed  his  feet, 
Seized  with  dumb  joy — then  falling  by  his  side, 
Owned  his  returning  lord,  looked  up,  and  died. 

Pope. 


THE  DOG. 


189 


Ingenious  bards  have  often  tried 
Man's  best  resemblance  to  define 

I  hold  (nor  startle  child  of  pride) 
Our  likeness  is  the  race  canine! 

'Gainst  this  let  no  one  set  his  lace, 
I  go  on  sure  and  certain  ground, 

Where  can  throughout  the  human  race 
More  strict  fidelity  be  found  ? 

The  dog,  if  needful,  to  his  death, 

Demonstrating  with  honor  is, 
For  his  protection  yields  his  breath, 

And  saves  that  life  which  cherished  his. 

Nor  can  this  any  stigma  fix 

At  which  the  nicest  ear  may  start; 

But  shows,  that  though  they  play  dogs'  tricks, 
Men  have  fidelity  at  heart. 

Sly  dogs,  queer  dogs,  mankind  we  name, 
Then  who  my  thesis  shall  condemn, 

For,  if  their  titles  be  the  same, 
They  must  ape  us,  or  we  ape  them. 

Pug  dogs,  that  amble  through  the  street 

To  fops  we  aptly  may  compare; 
And  every  female  that  you  meet 

Can  tell  you  who  the  puppies  are. 

For  sad  dogs  one  can  scarcely  stir, 

Of  spaniels  there's  a  catalogue; 
The  dogged  cynic  is  a  cur, 

A  tar's  the  English  mastiff  dog. 

With  dogs  such  dashing  sportsmen  suit 
As  instinct  use,  but  never  think; 

And  yet  the  dog  is  the  wiser  brute, 
For  he  can  neither  smoke  nor  drink! 

Bullies  are  whelps  that  growl  and  snarl, 
And  quarrel  loud,  but  never  fight, 


190 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


Mongrels  are  envy's  sons  that  snarl, 
And  show  their  teeth — but  can  not  bite. 

The  terrier  the  undertaker  hits, 

The  Greek's  a  fox  that  skips  and  cogs, 

Comical  dogs  are  smarts  and  wits, 
And  topers  are  all  jolly  dogs. 

Dibdin. 


Menagerie  of  Animals. — The  situation  of  the  Dublin 
Zoological  Garden,  could  not  have  been  more  beautiful 
or  appropriate.  On  entering  the  gardens,  the  first  ob- 
ject to  the  right  is  a  cage  containing  a  pair  of  red 
grouse.  These  pretty  birds  seemed  completely  domesti- 
cfited,  and  so  familiar  as  to  eat  from  your  hand.  Fur- 
ther to  the  right  is  a  shed  or  house  appropriated  to  some 
animals.  I  was  surprised  at  the  very  confined  space  in 
which  so  many  were  crowded.  There  were  in  the  room 
a  leopard  and  leopardess,  a  hyena,  several  monkeys,  a 
squirrel,  an  inchneumon,  a  pelican,  several  mackaws 
and  parrots,  a  Kestrel  hawk,  and  two  fine  herons,  birds, 
toises,  and  others — all  confined  in  a  room  not  more  than 
twenty  or  twenty-five  feet  long,  and  ten  or  twelve  feet 
broad.  I  trust  that  this  building  is  quite  temporary, 
and  not  intended  as  a  fixed  residence.  The  animals  can 
not  be  seen  to  advantage,  and  must  find  their  confine- 
ment to  be  any  thing  but  pleasant.  The  committee  of 
the  garden  must  be  aware  that  the  space  allotted  to  each 
animal  is  far  from  sufficient,  either  to  render  its  situa- 
tion at  all  comfortable,  or  permit  of  its  being  examined 
as  it  should  be. 

Leaving  this  shed  we  pass  on  to  those  noble  birds — 
the  ostriches.  Should  not  the  boxes  which  seemed  in- 
tended to  protect  them  from  the  inclemency  of  the 
weather,  be  much  larger,  for  the  birds  are  obliged  in 
entering  them  to  stoop  very  much,  and  they  could  not 
possibly  remain  in  them  except  in  a  bent  attitude. 

In  the  lawn,  chained  to  some  trees,  I  noticed  the  moor 
buzzard,  common  buzzard,  and  peregrine  falcon.  Why 
are  these  poor  creatures  chained?    The  buzzards  are 


CONFINEMENT  OF  ANIMALS. 


191 


altogether  precluded  from  perching,  as  the  branches  of 
the  trees  to  which  they  are  chained  are  far  above  their 
reach.  Why  not  have  a  house  erected  which  would  con- 
tain all  these,  and  morer  and  which  could  be  done  at  a 
trifling  expense?  It  might  be  done  by  driving  .  stakes 
into  the  ground  in  a  circular  form,  and  roofing  it  in  a 
similar  manner  to  the  house  containing  the  pheasants, 
&c.  By  this  they  w  ould  be  protected  from  the  severity 
of  the  weather,  and  would  enjoy  sufficient  liberty  to  ren- 
der them  comfortable,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  be  seen 
to  more  advantage  than  they  are  at  present. 

Turning  from  these  I  stood  before  two  of  our  noblest 
birds — the  golden  eagles.  When  we  see  them  confined 
within  the  precincts  of  a  cage,  and  reflect  on  what  would 
have  been  their  [free]  situation  had  they  not  been 
brought  under  the  dominion  of  man,  we  can  not  but 
wish  to  render  them  as  comfortable  as  circumstances 
will  permit.  Fixed  as  they  are  at  present,  they  are, 
perhaps,  more  at  ease  than  many  of  their  fellow-pris- 
oners; but  by  appropriating  large  spaces  to  them  and 
to  the  pair  of  sea  eagles,  which  might  easily  be  done; 
they,  by  enjoying  greater  freedom  of  moving  from  perch 
to  perch  would,  I  am  sure,  feel  their  confinement  less 
irksome. 

I  now  visited  the  sea  fowl,  and  here  the  same  want  of 
room  struck  me,  perhaps  more  forcibly  than  in  the  case 
of  the  eagles.  Might  not  a  railing  be  put  down,  which 
would  extend  to  a  considerable  distance  across  the  pond, 
and  afford  them  better  accommodation-  for  cleaning 
themselves,  and  would  tend  to  preserve  them  in  better 
health  than  they  can  be,  limited  as  they  are  at  present. 

J.  D.  M.  of  Belfast. — Dublin  Penny  Journal. 


(192) 


THE  BEES. 

Ah,  see  where,  robbed  and  murdered  in  that  pit 
Lies  the  still  heaving  hive!  at  evening  snatched, 
Beneath  the  cloud  of  guilt*concealing  night, 
And  fixed  o'er  sulphur:  while,  not  dreaming  ill, 
The  happy  people,  in  their  waxen  cells, 
Sat  tending  public  cares,  and  planning  schemes 
Of  temperance,  for  winter  poor;  rejoiced 
To  mark,  full  flowing  round,  their  copious  stores. 
Sudden  the  dark  oppressive  steam  ascends; 
And,  used  to  milder  scents,  the  tender  race. 
By  thousands,  tumbled  from  their  honeyed  domes, 
Convolved,  and  agonizing  in  the  dust. 
And  was  it  then  for  this  you  roamed  the  spring. 
Intent  from  flower  to  flower  ?  for  this  you  toiled 
Ceaseless  the  burning  summer  heats  away? 
For  this  in  autumn  searched  the  blooming  waste, 
Nor  lost  one  sunny  gleam  !  for  this  sad  fate  ? 
0  man!  tyrannic  lord!  how  long,  how  long 
Shall  prostrate  nature  groan  beneath  your  rage, 
Awaiting  renovation?  When  obliged, 
Must  you  destroy?  Of  their  ambrosial  food 
Can  you  not  borrow;  and,  in  just  return 
Afford  them  shelter  from  the  wintry  winds; 
Or,  as  the  sharp  year  pinches,  with  their  own 
Again  regale  them  on  some  smiling  day  ? 
See  where  the  stony  bottom  of  their  town 
Looks  desolate  and  wild ;  with  here  and  there 
A  helpless  number,  who  the  ruined  state 
Survive,  lamenting,  weak,  cast  out  to  death. 

Thompson. 

In  this  country  it  is  usual  in  seizing  the  stores  of  these 
little  animals,  to  rob  them  also  of  their  lives.  A  hole  is 
dug  near  the  hives  of  those  who  have  been  doomed  for 
slaughter  (generally  in  September),  and  a  stick  fastened 
to  a  rag  that  has  been  dipped  in  melted  brimstone  being 
placed  in  the  hole  and  the  rag  set  on  fire,  the  hive  is 


THE  BEES. 


193 


immediately  set  over  it,  and  the  earth  instantly  thrown 
up  all  around  so  that  none  can  escape.  In  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  all  the  hees  are  seemingly  dead,  and  they  soon 
will  be  irrecoverably  so  by  being  buried  in  the  earth,  that 
is,  returned  back  into  the  hole.  By  this  last  means  they 
are  absolutely  killed,  for  those  recover  who  have  been 
affected  only  by  the  fume  of  the  brimstone,  and  not  singed 
or  burnt  by  the  flame.  Hence  it  appears  that  the  fume 
of  the  brimstone,  might,  with  some  precautions,  be  used 
for  intoxicating  the  bees. 

More  humane  and  judicious  methods  were  practiced  by 
the  ancients,  and  a  simple  method  is  at  this  day  used  in 
Greece,  degenerate  as  it  is.-— Encyclopedia . 

Their  hives  are  made  of  willow  and  osiers,  wide  at 
the  top  and  narrow  at  the  bottom,  and  plastered  with 
clay  or  with  loam  both  within  and  without.  The  tops 
are  covered  with  broad  flat  sticks,  plastered  over  with 
clay  and  covered  with  straw  to  secure  them  from  the 
weather.  Along  each  of  these  sticks,  the  bees  fasten 
their  combs,  which  may  be  taken  out  whole.  This  is 
done  in  the  middle  of  the  day  when  the  bees  are  abroad, 
they  being  thus  disturbed  the  least,  the  comb  is  lifted  up 
from  each  outside,  and  sufficient  left  in  the  middle  to 
maintain  the  bees  in  winter;  those  bees  on  the  combs  are 
gently  swept  again  into  the  basket  hive  which  is  covered 
anew  with  sticks  and  plaster. — Wheelers  Travels  in 
Greece. 

The  common  practice  of  killing  the  bees,  in  order  to 
obtain  the  honey,  few  can  witness  without  some  little 
compunction.  There  is  a  very  simple  method  of  effect- 
ing the  object  without  any  injury  to  this  most  interesting- 
little  animal,  which,  on  the  score  of  interest,  as  well  as 
humanity,  claims  regard. 

In  the  evening,  when  the  bees  have  retired,  take  the 
hive  gently  from  the  stand;  spread  a  table  cloth  on  the 
ground;  set  the  hive  on  it,  placing  something  under  it  to 
raise  it  three  or  four  inches ;  then  draw  up  the  corners 
of  the  cloth,  and  fasten  them  tight  around  the  middle  of 
the  hive,  leaving  it  so  loose  below,  that  the  bees  will 
have  sufficient  room  between  it  and  the  hive;  then  raise 
the  lid  of  the  hive  a  little  and  blow  in  the  smoke  from  a 
18 


194 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


segar;  a  few  puffs  of  which,  as  it  is  very  disagreeable, 
will  drivre  them  down:  continue  raising  the  lid  gradually, 
blowing  all  around,  and  in  a  few  minutes  it  will  be  found 
that  they  have  gone  out  of  the  hive.  You  may  then  take 
off  the  lid  and  cut  away  as  much  of  the  honey  as  you 
think  proper.  If  the  operation  be  performed  the  begin- 
ning of  July,  you  may  take  nearly  all,  as  there  will  be 
time  enough  to  provide  a  sufficiency  for  their  support 
during  the  winter.  As  soon  as  you  have  taken  the  honey, 
put  on  the  lid,  loosen  the  cloth,  and  spread  it  out,  and 
in  an  hour  or  two  the  bees  will  have  returned  into  the 
hive.  It  may  then  be  replaced  on  the  stand,  and  on  the 
following  day  they  will  be  found  at  work  as  usual. 

American  Farmer. 
The  Rev.  Mr.  White  observed  that  no  true  lover  of 
bees  ever  lighted  the  fatal  match  without  much  concern, 
and  that  it  is  evidently  more  to  our  advantage,  to  spare 
the  lives  of  our  bees  and  be  content  with  part  of  their 
stores,  than  to  kill  and  take  possession  of  the  whole. 
From  his  fondness  for  these  little  animals,  he  endeavored, 
if  possible,  to  save  them  from  fire  and  brimstone;  feeling 
content  to  share  their  labors  for  the  present,  and  rejoic- 
ing if  he  could  save  their  lives  for  another  year.  The' 
object  of  his  studies  and  experiments  was,  to  find  an  easy 
and  cheap  mode  of  doing  this  for  the  common  people. 
His  bee-boxes  are  of  a  square  shape,  the  height  and 
breadth  ten  or  twelve  inches,  made  of  boards  nearly  an 
inch  thick  and  well  seasoned  that  they  may  not  warp  or 
split.  In  the  middle  of  the  bottom  edge  of  the  front  side 
is  cut  a  door  or  aperture  three  inches  wide  and  nearly 
half  an  inch  high,  which  will  freely  admit  the  bees,  but 
exclude  their  enemy  the  mouse.  Near  the  top  of  the  back 
part  is  securely  fastened  a  piece  of  good  glass  about  five 
inches  long,  and  three  broad;  by  means  of  this  you  may, 
when  necessary,  judge  of  the  situation  and  quantity  of 
the  contents  of  each  box.  At  all  other  times  the  glass 
must  be  securely  covered  by  a  thin  board  shutter.  Within 
are  fixed  two  sticks  crossing  the  box  from  side  to  side, 
and  crossing  each  other,  to  be  a  stay  for  the  combs;  the 
one  three  inches  from  the  top,  and  the  other  from  the 
bottom.    Two  of  these  boxes  are  to  be  joined  together, 


THE  BEES. 


195 


and  the  sides  of  junction  may  therefore  he  made  thinner. 
In  the  bottom  of  these  two  sides  of  communication,  a 
space  must  be  left  the  whole  breadth  of  the  box,  and  a 
little  more  than  an  inch  in  height,  by  which  the  bees  may 
freely  pass  from  one  to  the  other,  and  a  passage  at  the 
top,  three  inches  long,  and  more  than  half  an  inch  wide, 
for  ease  of  returning,  &c. 

To  hive  a  swarm  of  bees,  the  two  open  spaces  in  the 
side  of  communication  of  one  box,  are  closely  covered, 
and  the  next  morning  after  the  bees  are  hived  in  this  box, 
the  other  box  is  added  and  the  communication  is  opened; 
but  if  the  swarm  is  very  large,  the  two  boxes  may  be 
joined  with  three  staples,  the  communication  being  left 
open,  and  the  bees  hived  at  once  into  both.  The  en- 
trance of  the  bees  must  be  through  the  first  box  only ; 
the  outward  door  of  the  second  box  must  be  carefully 
stopped,  and  continued  so  until  the  time  of  taking  the 
honey;  as  soon  as  they  are  hived,  cover  their  box  with  a 
linen  cloth,  or  green  boughs  to  protect  it  from  the  piercing 
heat  of  the  sun,  which  board  boxes  admit  much  sooner 
than  straw  hives;  for  if  the  swarm  find  their  house  too 
hot  to  hold  them  they  will  be  wise  enough  to  leave  it. 
They  should  also  be  screened  from  the  winter's  sun, 
which  will  draw  them  from  their  lethargic  state,  as 
well  as  from  the  summer's,  and  rain,  &c.  At  the  latter 
end  of  August,  you  may  examine  all  the  hives  by 
opening  the  shutters  of  the  glasses  of  each,  and  see 
which  colonies  are  rich  enough  for  contribution.  If  the 
first  box  be  filled,  and  the  second  partly  so,  you  can  with 
ease  obtain  the  latter.  You  must  ascertain  how  many 
combs  there  are,  and  how  well  they  are  stored  with 
honey.  The  most  proper  time  for  taking  it  is  the  mid- 
dle of  the  day;  you  stand  behind  the  frame  armed  with 
a  pair  of  gloves.  First  open  the  door  of  the  closed 
hive,  then  with  a  thin  knife  cut  through  the  resin  with 
which  the  bees  have  joined  the  boxes,  and  thrust  a  sheet 
of  tin  gently  between  the  boxes;  the  communication  be- 
ing thus  stopped,  the  bees  in  the  box  with  the  queen, 
probably  the  first  and  fullest  one,  will  be  a  little  disturbed; 
but  in  the  other  box  they  will  be  in  the  greatest  distress 
and  confusion,  and  will  issue  out  at  the  door  one  or  two 


196 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


at  a  time,  in  wild  flutter  and  disorder,  but  when  they  spy 
their  fellows  they  join  them  at  the  mouth  of  the  other 
box;  in  an  hour  or  two  they  will  all  have  removed  to  the 
box  where  the  queen  is,  and  you  have  the  pure  honey  in 
the  other  box,  without  any  burnt  or  dead  bees,  which, 
when  you  burn  them,  are  often  mixed  with  the  honey  and 
both  waste  and  damage  it.  Should  any  bees  attempt  to 
remove  the  honey  from  the  vacant  hive  to  the  other, 
small  trap  doors  of  thin  paste-board  loosely  suspended 
over  the  mouth,  and  opening  outwardly  only,  would 
permit  those  within  to  escape,  but  would  prevent  all  en- 
trance. 

Mr.  White  says  that  he  prefers  these  collateral  boxes 
[joined  side  by  side]  to  those  placed  on  top  of  each  other, 
from  "compassion  for  the  poor  bees,  weary  and  heavy 
laden  from  the  fields;  for  as  these  architects  lay  the 
foundation  of  their  structure  at  the  top,  and  build  down- 
ward, the  little  laborer  thus  has  to  drag  her  loads  up  the 
sides  of  the  walls,  and  travel  many  times  backward  and 
forward  along  the  roof  before  she  finds  the  door  into  the 
second  story,  and  here  she  is  again  perplexed  with  a  like 
puzzling  labyrinth,  before  she  gets  into  the  third.  What 
a  waste  is  here  of  that  precious  time  which  our  bees  value 
so  much,  and  which  they  employ  so  well!  and  what  an 
expense  of  strength  and  spirits,  on  which  their  support 
And  sustenance  depend!" — Encyclopedia  Britannica. 


SHEEP. 

When  sheep  are  very  ill  kept,  or  when  they  lay  on 
damp  or  wet  ground  in  the  spring  or  autumn,  they*  are 
subject  to  colds,  which  appear  by  the  discharge  of  mucus 
from  the  nose  and  eyes,  and  sometimes  by  blindness. 
The  cure  is  warmth,  dry  litter,  and  good  food. 

Folding  tends  to  the  deterioration  of  the  flock,  the  loss 
in  wool,  and  injury  to  the  sheep  and  lambs  exceeding  the 
gain  in  manure. 

Cattle,  unless  they  feed  near  the  sea,  require  salt;  they 
eat  it  ravenously,  and  it  is  thought  essential  to  their 


SHEEP. 


197 


health.  However  good  your  pastures  may  be,  the  sheep 
will  tire  of  them  unless  their  appetites  are  kept  up  by 
salt.  % 

In  shearing,  great  care  is  to  be  taken  not  to  wound  the 
sheep,  particularly  near  the  udder,  where  the  wound  is 
dangerous;  but  in  case  of  such  accidents,  apply  to  the 
wound,  to  heal  and  protect  it  from  the  flies,  some  tar. 
with  a  little  grease  and  fine  dust  of  charcoal  over  it. 

Every  good  farmer  should  provide  some  shelter  for  his 
ewes  in  the  winter,  and  take  care  to  furnish  the  yard 
with  a  great  quantity  of  litter,  and  renew  this  after  every 
rain.  I  generally  heap  up  leaves  and  lay  straw  upon 
them;  this  forms  a  soft  bed  in  the  winter,  and  by  its 
early  fermentation  in  the  spring,  furnishes  a  rich  ma- 
nure. 

The  otter  sheep  have  a  long  body,  with  legs  turned 
out,  and  quite  short,  so  that  they  can  not  run  or  jump, 
and  even  walk  with  some  difficulty.  The  only  advantage 
that  can  result  from  this  deformity,  is,  that  they  can  not 
pass  over  stone  walls,  and  are  confined  by  slight  fences. 
Whether  this  will  counterbalance  the  sufferings  to  which 
they  must  be  liable  in  a  deep  snow,  the  impossibility  of 
driving  them  to  distant  pastures  or  to  market,  and  the 
facility  with  which  they  maybe  destroyed  by  dogs,  is  a 
matter  of  calculation  with  economical  farmers.  Those, 
however,  who  possess  a  grain  of  taste,  who  take  a  plea- 
sure in  the  sportive  gambols  of  their  lambs,  and  who  de- 
light rather  in  perfecting  than  in  maiming  the  works  of 
nature,  will  seldom  be  induced  to  propagate,  beyond  what 
is  absolutely  necessary,  an  infirmity  which  abridges  the 
short  enjoyments  of  a  useful  and  helpless  animal. 

Robert  R.  Livingston. 


It  is  very  laudable  to  exercise  kindness  towards  brute 
creatures,  that  we  may  keep  ourselves  more  remote  from 
all  manner  of  cruelty  towards  men. — Grotius. 


(198) 


REMORSE  ON  KILLING  A  SQUIRREL  IN  A  GARDEN. 

f  Rash  was  the  hand,  and  foul  the  deed, 

That  gave  thee,  thus,  to  death  a  prey; 
Oh!  I  could  weep  to  see  thee  bleed 
And  pant  thy  gasping  life  away. 

vVhat  hadst  thou  done  to  merit  death, 

But  gather  for  a  future  day, 
Just  to  prolong  thy  little  breath? 

And  yet  I  took  thy  life  away. 

For  thou  no  wealth  or  fame  did'st  crave, 

No  costly  food,  or  clothing  gay; 
But  only  sought  thy  life  to  save, 

And  yet  I  took  thy  life  away. 

Poor  little  thing!  how  hard  it  strove 

To  shun  the  blow,  as  hid  it  lay: 
But  all  could  not  my  pity  move, 

I  took  its  trembling  life  away. 

Oh!  how  inhospitably  vile! 

It  came,  a  stranger,  here  to  stay; 
To  eat  and  drink,  and  live  awhile, 

But  I  have  torn  its  life  away. 

Too  late,  I  now  repent  the  blow, 

'Tis  stiff,  alas!  and  cold  as  clay! 
Its  life  to  me  it  did  not  owe, 

And  yet  I  took  its  life  away. 

That  power  which  gave  all  nature  law, 
Whose  summons  we  must  all  obey, 

Gave  thee  thy  vital  breath  to  draw, 
And  yet  I  took  that  breath  away. 

Whether  thou  hast  a  mate  to  moan, 
Or  offspring  dear,  ah!  who  can  say? 


THE  ASS. 


199 


No  harm  to  me  thou  e'er  has  done, 
And  yet  I  took  thy  life  away. 

What  millions  do  mankind  destroy, 
Of  their  own  race,  for  power  or  pay! 

Some  would  have  kept  thee  for  a  toy, 
But  I  have  toyed  thy  life  away. 

And  if  for  this  remorse  I  feel, 

If  conscience  sting,  oh!  what  must  they 

Endure,  who  wide  destruction  deal, 
And  take  the  life  of  man  away. 

William  Ray. 

Affection  of  a  Wolf. — M.  de  Candolle,  lecturer  on 
Natural  History  at  Geneva,  among  other  instances  of  the 
affection  of  wolves,  mentioned  one  which  occurred  in  his 

vicinity.    Madame  M  ,  had  a  tame  wolf  which  seemed 

to  have  as  much  attachment  to  its  mistress  as  a  spaniel. 
She  had  occasion  to  leave  home  for  some  weeks:  the  wolf 
evinced  the  greatest  distress  after  her  departure,  and  at 
first  refused  to  take  food.  During  the  whole  time  she 
was  absent  he  remained  much  dejected;  on  her  return  as 
soon  as  the  animal  heard  her  footsteps,  he  bounded  into 
the  room  in  an  ecstacy  of  delight ;  springing  up  he  placed 
one  paw  on  each  of  her  shoulders,  but  next  moment  he 
fell  backwards  and  instantly  expired. 

BakevjelVs  Travels. 


THE  ASS. 

The  domestic  ass  is  an  humble,  tranquil  and  patient 
animal.  He  submits  with  firmness  to  strokes  and  chas- 
tisement; is  temperate  in  the  quantity  and  quality  of  his 
food;  but  will  not  drink  water  unless  it  is  pure.  As  his 
master  will  not  take  the  trouble  of  combing  him,  he  often 
rolls  himself  on  the  turf  among  thistles,  ferns,  &c. 
Without  regarding  what  he  is  carrying  he  lies  down  as 
often  as  he  can,  s:eming  to  reproach  his  master  for  neg- 


200 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


lect  and  want  of  attention.  When  very  young  the  ass  is 
a  gay,  sprightly,  nimble  and  gentle  animal;  but  he  soon 
loses  these  qualities,  probably  by  the  bad  usage  he  meets 
with.  He  has  a  fine  eye,  excellent  scent  and  good  ear. 
The  affection  of  the  female  for  her  young  is  very  strong; 
Pliny  says,  that  when  an  experiment  was  made  to  test 
the  strength  of  her  maternal  affections,  she  run  through 
the  flames  to  come  at  her  colt.  When  overloaded,  he 
shows  his  sense  of  the  injustice,  and  hangs  his  head  and 
sinks  his  ears,  and  when  much  teased  and  tormented,  he 
opens  his  mouth  and  retracts  his  lips  in  a  disagreeable 
manner,  but  seldom  cries  unless  pressed  by  love  or  hun- 
ger.— Natural  History. 

I  was  stopped  at  the  gate  by  a  poor  ass,  who  had  just 
turned  in  with  a  couple  of  large  panniers  upon  his  back, 
to  collect  elecmosinary  turnip  tops  and  cabbage  leaves; 
and  stood  dubious  with  his  two  fore  feet  on  the  inside  of 
the  threshold,  and  with  his  two  hinder  feet  towards  the 
street,  as  not  knowing  very  well  whether  he  was  to  go  in 
or  not. 

Now  'tis  an  animal  (be  in  what  hurry  I  may)  I  can 
not  bear  to  strike — there  is  a  patient  endurance  of  suffer- 
ings, wrote  so  unaffectedly  in  his  looks  and  carriage, 
which  pleads  so  mightily  for  him,  that  it  always  disarms 
me;  and  to  that  degree  that  I  do  not  like  to  speak  un- 
kindly to  him:  on  the  contrary,  meet  him  where  I  will, 
whether  in  town  or  country — in  cart  or  under  panniers, 
whether  at  liberty  or  in  bondage,  I  have  ever  something 
to  say  to  him  on  my  part;  and  as  one  word  begets  another 
(if  he  has  as  little  to  do  as  I),  I  generally  fall  into  con- 
versation with  him;  and  surely  never  is  my  imagination 
so  busy,  as  in  framing  his  responses  from  the  etchings  of 
his  countenance,  and — where  those  carry  me  not  deep 
enough — in  flying  from  rny  own  heart  into  his  and  seeing 
what  is  natural  for  an  ass  to  think,  as  well  as  man  upon 
the  occasion. 

Come  honesty!  said  I,  seeing  it  was  impracticable  to 
pass  betwixt  him  and  the  gate— art  thou  for  coming  in 
or  going  out  ?  The  ass  twisted  his  head  round  to  look  up 
the  street.  Well,  replied  I,  we'll  wrait  a  minute  for  thy 
driver. 


THE  ASS. 


201 


He  turned  his  head  thoughtfully  about  and  looked  wist- 
fully the  opposite  way. 

I  understand  thee  perfectly,  answered  I,  if  thoutakcst 
a  wrong  step  in  this  affair,  he  will  cudgel  thee  to  death. 
Well!  a  minute  is  but  a  minute,  and  if  it  saves  a  fellow 
creature  a  drubbing,  it  shall  not  be  set  down  as  ill-spent. 

He  was  eating-  the  stem  of  an  artichoke  as  this  dis- 
course went  on,  and  in  the  little  peevish  contentions  of 
nature  betwixt  hunger  and  unsavoriness,  had  dropped  it 
out  of  his  mouth  half  a  dozen  times,  and  picked  it  up 
again.  God  help  thee,  Jack!  said  I,  thou  hast  a  bitter 
breakfast  on't,  and  many  a  bitter  day's  labor — and  many 
a  bitter  blow,  I  fear,  for  its  wages;  'tis  all  bitterness  to 
thee  whatever  life  is  to  others.  And  now  thy  mouth,  if 
one  knew  the  truth  of  it,  is  as  bitter,  I  dare  say,  as  soot 
(for  he  had  cast  aside  the  stem),  and  thou  hast  not  a 
friend  perhaps  in  all  the  world,  that  will  give  you  a 
macaroon.  In  saying  this  I  pulled  out  a  paper  of  them, 
which  I  had  just  purchased,  and  gave  him  one,  and  at 
this  moment  that  I  am  telling  it  my  heart  smites  me,  that 
there  was  more  of  pleasantry  in  the  conceit,  of  seeing 
how  an  ass  would  eat  a  macaroon,  than  of  benevolence 
in  giving  him  one,  which  presided  in  the  act. 

When  the  ass  had  eaten  his  macaroon,  I  pressed  him 
to  come  in;  the  poor  beast  wras  heavy  loaded,  his  legs 
seemed  to  tremble  under  him,  he  hung  rather  backward, 
and  as  I  pulled  at  his  halter  it  broke  short  in  my  hand, 
he  looked  up  pensive  in  my  face:  "Don't  thrash  me  with 
it,  but  if  you  will,  you  may."  If  I  do,  said  I,  I'll  be 
d— 

The  word  was  but  one  half  of  it  pronounced  (so  there 
was  no  sin  in  it)— when  a  person  coming  in,  let  fall  a 
thundering  bastinado  upon  the  poor  devil's  crupper,  which 
put  an  end  to  the  ceremony. — -Sterne, 


We  must  not  contradict  but  instruct  him  that  contra- 
dtcts  us;  for  a  mad  man  is  not  to  be  cured  by  another's 
running  mad  also. 


(  202) 


THE  HORSE. 

The  horse's  useful  talents  are  improved,  and  his  nat- 
ural qualities  perfected  by  art  ;  from  his  birth  he  is  care- 
fully attended,  exercised,  and  fitted  for  the  service  of 
man;  his  education  commences  with  the  loss  of  his  lib- 
erty, and  is  completed  by  restraint.  The  servitude  of 
these  animals  is  so  universal  and  perpetual,  that  we  sel- 
dom see  them  in  their  natural  state.  When  employed 
they  are  loaded  with  harness:  in  the  seasons  of  rest,  they 
are  not  entirely  free  from  shackles ;  and  even  in  the  fields 
and  pastures  they  carry  the  badges  of  slavery,  and  fre- 
quently bear  the  cruel  marks  of  labor  and  pain.  Their 
mouths  disfigured  with  furrows,  occasioned  by  the  bit; 
their  sides  deformed  with  ulcers  or  cicatrices,  from  the 
spur;  their  hoofs  perforated  with  nails,  and  their  atti- 
tudes, by  the  continued  pressure  of  the  harness,  cramped 
and  constrained;  even  of  those  whose  servitude  is  of 
the  easiest  kind,  being  kept  chiefly  for  show  and  magnifi- 
cence, their  gilded  chains  are  not  so  much  intended  for  an 
ornament  to  them,  as  to  show  the  opulence  or  vanity 
of  their  master. — Bujfon. 

Reflections  on  my  Horse. — This  beast  of  toil  and 
sweat  hath  administered  to  my  pleasures  or  to  my  profit 
for  many  years  past;  and  now  that  he  is  no  longer  able 
to  perform  my  work,  shall  I  dismiss  him  as  a  creature 
not  worthy  of  my  future  protection  ?  Shall  I  subject 
him  to  the  caprice,  or  abuse,  or  unexperienced  servitude 
of  a  new,  and,  it  may  be,  of  a  cruel  and  mercenary  mas- 
ter ?  If  he  is  not  fit  for  my  work,  he  is  not  fit  for  any 
work.  And  shall  I  curse  the  age  of  my  beast  because  he 
hath  worn  himself  out  in  my  service  ?  Or  the  gain 
which  I  have  acquired  by  his  labor,  shall  I  corrode  it  by 
the  price  of  his  blood  ?  No.  If  I  chop  not  his  hay;  if 
I  grind  not  his  corn ;  if  I  assist  not  the  decay  and  un- 
evenness  of  his  teeth,  by  conducting  him  to  the  longest, 
mildest,  and  tenderest  grass  in  my  pasture,  2"  will  yet 


THE  HORSE.  203 

testify  my  approbation  of  his  former  service,  by  putting  an 
instant  period  to  all  his  pain;  for  it  is  not  cruelty,  but 
mercy,  to  shoot  my  horse  or  dog,  when  his  teeth  are  gone, 
and  the  happiness  of  his  life  is  at  an  end. — Sporting  Mag- 
azine. 


THE  HIGH-METTLED  RACER. 

See  the  course  thronged  with  gazers,  the  sports  are  begun, 
The  confusion,  but  hear:  I  bet  you,  Sir! — done! 
Ten  thousand  strange  murmurs  resound  far  and  near, 
Lords,  hawkers,  and  jockeys,  assail  the  tired  ear, 
While  with  neck  like  a  rainbow,  erecting  his  crest, 
Pampered,  prancing,  and  pleased,  his  head  touching  his 
breast; 

Scarcely  snuffing  the  air  he's  so  proud  and  elate, 
The  high-mettled  racer  first  starts  for  the  plate. 

Grown  aged,  used  up,  and  turned  out  of  the  stud, 
Lame,  spavined,  and  v^ind-galled,  but  yet  with  some 
blood: 

While  knowing  postilions  his  pedigree  trace, 
Tell  his  dam  won  this  sweepstake,  his  sire  gained  that 
race: 

And  what  matches  he'd  won  too,  the  ostlers  count  o'er, 
And  they  loiter  their  time  at  some  hedge  ale-house  door, 
While  the  harness  sore  galls,  and  the  spurs  his  sides  goad, 
The  high-mettled  racer's  a  hack  on  the  road. 

Till  at  last,  having  labored,  drudged  early  and  late, 

Bowed  down  by  degrees,  he  bends  on  to  his  fate; 

Blind,  old,  lean,  and  feeble,  he  tugs  round  a  mill 

Or  draws  sand  till  the  sand  of  his  hour-glass  stands  still. 

And  now  cold  and  lifeless,  exposed  to  the  view, 

In  the  very  same  cart  which  he  yesterday  drew; 

While  a  pitying  crowd  his  sad  relics  surrounds, 

The  high-mettled  racer  is  sold  for  the  hounds. — Dibdin. 


204 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


The  Bedouins  [Arabs]  never  allow  a  horse,  at  the  mo- 
ment of  its  birth,  to  fall  upon  the  ground;  they  receive  it 
in  their  arms,  and  so  cherish  it  for  several  hours,  occu- 
pied in  washing  and  stretching  its  tender  limbs,  and  ca- 
ressing it  as  they  would  a  baby.  After  this  they  place  it 
on  the  ground  and  watch  its  feeble  steps  with  particular 
attention,  prognosticating  from  that  time  the  excellencies 
or  defects  of  their  future  companion. — Burckhardt. 

The  Sabbath  seems  to  be  considered,  by  too  many,  as 
set  apart  by  divine  and  human  authority  for  the  purpose, 
not  of  rest,  but  of  its  direct  opposite,  the  labor  of  travel- 
ing, thus  adding  one  day  more  of  torment  to  those  gen- 
erous but  wretched  animals  whose  services  they  hire;  and 
who  being  generally  strained  the  other  six  days  of  the 
week,  have  of  all  creatures  under  heaven  the  best  and 
and  most  equitable  claim  to  suspension  of  labor  on  the 
seventh. — Bishop  Porteus. 

Gratitude  to  my  Horse. — I  had  thrown  the  reins  of 
my  horse  on  his  neck,  who  had  taken  advantage  of  my 
inattention  to  pick  up  a  little  clover  that  grew  by  the 
way  side. 

Nay,  if  it  be  thy  will,  old  companion,  says  I,  e'en  take 
the  other  bite;  the  farmer  will  be  never  the  poorer  for 
the  mouthful  thou  shalt  take  away:  did  he  know  thy 
good  qualities,  he  would  let  thee  eat  thy  fill.  I  will  not 
interrupt  thy  pleasurable  moments;  so,  prithee,  feed 
on. 

Full  many  a  year  hast  thou  journeyed  with  me  through 
the  uneven  ways  of  the  world!  We  have  tugged  up 
many  a  steep  hill,  and  borne  the  buffet  of  the  tempest 
together!  I  have  had  the  labors  of  thy  youth,  and  thy 
age  hath  a  claim  on  me,  which,  while  I  have  sixpence  in 
my  pocket,  I  dare  not  refuse.  Thou  shalt  not,  when  thy 
strength  is  exhausted,  be  consigned  to  poverty  and  toil; 
or,  as  thou  passest  by  my  door,  lashed  on  by  some  un- 
feeling owner,  look  at  me  with  the  severe^  eye  of  re- 
proach. 

Had  that  hand,  which  fashioned  us  both,  endued  thy 
species  with  the  faculty  of  speech,  with  what  bitterness 
of  heart  would  they  complain  of  the  ingratitude  of  ours. 

Keate. 


THE  HORSE* 


205 


As  the  late  Duke  of  Hamilton  was  returning  to  town 
in  his  phaeton,  his  progress  was  impeded  near  the  King 
of  Bohemia's  head,  Turnham  green,  by  a  vindictive  coach- 
man, who  was  lacerating  a  pair  of  fine  young  horses,  in 
harness,  and  using  to  them  language  the  most  indecorous* 
"Fellow,"  said  the  Duke,  "if  I  knew  your  master,  I 
would  presently  give  him  notice  of  your  cruelty."  "If 
you'll  get  down,"  replied  the  savage,  *  *  I'll  serve  you  in 
the  like  manner."  The  Duke  passed  the  infuriated  fel- 
low, and  waited  his'coming  at  the  Horse-and-Groom  turn- 
pike, where  having  arrived,  his  Grace  again  reproved 
him  for  his  conduct;  and  the  other,  not  knowing  with 
whom  he  had  to  cope,  once  more  became  still  more  abu- 
sive, when  the  Duke,  giving  his  coat  to  his  man,  bid  the 
coachman  defend  himself,  which  he  instantly  did,  and, 
after  a  few  rounds,  was  so  dreadfully  punished  as  to  lie 
on  his  back  and  cry  for  mercy.  "You  have  it,"  said  the 
Duke,  "though  you  could  show  none  to  your  horses,  who, 
though  they  wanted  the  tongues  to  complain,  have  found 
a  friend  in  the  Duke  of  Hamilton."  The  fellow,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  drubbing,  took  to  his  bed,  and  being 
turned  from  his  master's  service,  the  Duke  allowed  his 
wife  one  guinea  a  week  till  his  perfect  recovery. 

Sporting  Anecdote. 

It  might  have  been  expected  that  the  superior  excel- 
lence of  this  creature,  his  wonderful  usefulness,  the 
beauty  of  his  form  and  the  nobleness  of  his  nature,  would 
have  protected  him  from  wanton  cruelty;  and  yet  there 
is  no  animal  else  that  men  are  in  the  habit  of  treating  so 
cruelly,  The  noxious  animals  have  their  lives  taken 
from  them  at  once.  Few  possess  the  ferociousness  of 
disposition  that  would  delight  to  put  to  death  a  fox,  or 
even  a  wolf,  by  lingering  tortures.  But  the  horse  ex- 
periences this  horrible  treatment  from  the  hands  of  man, 
in  a  thousand  instances.  Backed,  or  driven,  by  an  un- 
feeling human  monster — in  the  attire,  perhaps,  of  a  gen- 
tleman, his  sides  are  goaded  with  the  spur,  or  his  flanks 
lashed  with  the  whip,  till  he  faints,  falls,  and  expires  in 
dumb  agony;  and  then  he  is  substituted  by  another,  and 
that  by  another  yet;  which,  each  in  his  turn,  are  tortured 
to  death;  and  that,  not  to  save  human  life,  but  for  the 


206 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


sake  of  conveying  with  unrivaled  speed,  a  speech,  or  an 
article  of  news,  that  would  suffer  no  damage  though  it 
arrived  a  few  hours  later. 

What  would  a  disciple  of  Pythagoras  say  in  this  case? 
Or  what  would  he  say  in  innumerable  other  cases  of  un- 
feeling barbarity  used  toward  a  creature  so  estimable  for 
his  usefulness,  his  faithfulness,  and  his  courage?  As- 
suredly he  would  say,  ' 'These  Christians  will  have  their 
reward.  In  the  next  stage  of  their  existence,  they  will 
be  compelled  to  do  penance  in  the  bodily  form  of  the  ani- 
mal they  have  so  wantonly  abused."  But,  fiction  apart, 
we  are  fully  assured,  upon  divine  authority,  that  with- 
out mercifulness  of  disposition  and  conduct  we  are  not 
entitled  to  the  expectation  of  finding  mercy;  and  that  "a 
merciful  man  is  merciful  to  his  beast." 

Mark  this!  There  is  no  worse  sign,  in  children,  nor 
any  thing  more  necessary  to  be  nipped  in  the  bud,  than  a 
strong  propensity  to  exercise  cruelty  upon  the  brute 
creatures  within  their  power.  It  was  the  sport  of  Domi- 
tian's  boyhood  to  impale  flies  on  the  point  of  a  needle; 
of  his  manhood,  it  was  the  sport  to  inflict  every  kind  of 
torture  upon  his  fellow  beings. — Sampson's  Brief  Re- 
marker. 

Training  and  Management  of  Horses. — Most  horses 
are  by  nature  extremely  docile,  and,  when  proper  means 
are  used  with  them,  they  show  themselves  very  well 
disposed  to  obey  their  masters.  The  latter,  therefore, 
ought  to  endeavor,  from  the  commencement,  to  acquire 
the  confidence  of  the  animal,  by  kind  and  gentle  treat- 
ment, and  by  avoiding  all  unnecessary  severity.  Some 
horses,  indeed,  are  naturally  vicious,  or  obstinate,  and 
must  occasionally  be  coerced  by  punishment;  but  the 
chastisement  should  be  inflicted  with  judgment  and  dis- 
crimination. Spirit  has  been  sometimes  mistaken  for 
vice;  and  many  horses  not  naturally  vicious,  have  been 
rendered  so  by  severity  and  injudicious  treatment.  A 
horse  may  be  dressed  to  the  manege  [riding  school]  at 
almost  any  age,  provided  he  has  sufficient  strength  and 
symmetry ;  some  people  prefer  from  five  to  eight  years 
of  age.  If  trained  from  his  infancy,  his  education  may 
commence  between  the  age  of  two  and  three  years,  and 


THE  HORSE. 


207 


it  will  facilitate  future  operations,  if  he  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  be  housed  during  the  winter.  At  this  age  a 
halter  or  cavesson  may  be  put  upon  the  foal,  that  he  may 
become  familiar  with  it.  It  is  proper,  too,  that  the 
groom,  every  time  he  cleans  the  animal,  should  lift  each 
of  his  feet  alternately,  and  strike  the  under  part  of  the 
hoof  gently  with  a  piece  of  wood,  or  a  hammer,  after 
which  he  will  readily  submit  to  be  shod  when  necessary. 
Before  feeding  the  foal,  the  groom  should  put  a  saddle 
on  its  back,  and  remove  it  again,  but  with  great  caution, 
and  continue  this  practice  from  time  to  time  until  the 
animal  has  become  habituated  to  it.  The  girth  may  then 
be  bound  over  the  saddle,  but  not  too  tight,  and  the  foal 
be  left  to  stand  and  feed.  The  hand  should  also  be  occa- 
sionally laid  gently  on  the  saddle,  in  order  that  the  ani- 
mal may  be  accustomed  to  be  handled  in  this  manner 
without  feeling  any  alarm.  We  can  not  too  often  repeat, 
that  these  things,  and,  indeed,  all  lessons  must  be  taught 
by  degrees,  and  by  the  most  gentle  means,  otherwise  we 
rim  the  risk  of  spoiling  the  temper  of  the  animal,  and  of 
rendering  it  either  timid  or  vicious.  By  following  the 
method  presented  above,  the  foal  will  gradually  become 
so  docile  and  obedient,  that  when  fit  for  riding,  he  will 
readily  submit  to  be  shod,  saddled,  and  mounted;  for 
having  been  familiarized  in  these  things  by  good  treat- 
ment, he  will  no  longer  be  apt  to  betray  any  alarm  or 
uneasiness. 

When  sufficiently  advanced  for  the  manege,  the  horse 
should  be  made  to  move  in  the  allonge  [long  rein]  for 
some  time,  without  a  rider.  For  this  purpose  an  easy 
cavesson  [noseband]  is  to  be  put  upon  his  nose,  and  he  is 
to  be  made  to  go  forward  round  you,  while  you  stand 
quiet  holding  the  longe,  and  another  man,  if  necessary, 
may  follow  him  with  a  whip.  This  exercise  should  be 
performed  with  great  gentleness,  and  but  little  at  a  time, 
in  order  that  the  horse  may  not  be  fatigued  or  discour- 
aged. The  first  lesson  of  a  horse  is  to  go  freely  forward, 
both  to  the  right  and  to  the  left.  You  must  not  suffer 
him  to  go  false,  nor  allow  his  pace  to  be  shuffling  or  ir- 
regular. No  bend  should  be  required  of  him  at  first ;  the 
cord  which  is  used  should  be  long  and  loose,  and  the 


208 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


circle  large,  in  order  that  he  may  go  free  and  uncon- 
strained. When  you  mean  to  change  hands,  stop  and 
caress  him,  and  entice  him  to  come  gently  up  to  you. 

Some  of  the  elder  writers  recommend  the  use  of  the 
bit  from  the  beginning,  as  practiced  in  some  of  the  French 
schools.  But  it  is  better  to  dispense  with  the  bit  at  first, 
as  it  is  apt  to  occasion  too  much  pressure  upon  the  bars 
of  a  young  horse;  to  make  him  carry  his  head  low,  and 
impede  the  motion  of  his  shoulders. 

The  natural  paces  of  a  horse  are  the  walk,  the  pace, 
and  the  gallop.  The  amble  is  natural  to  some  horses, 
though  not  to  others.  It  is  an  easy  motion  for  the  rider, 
but  very  fatiguing  for  the  horse.  It  may  be  taught,  but 
it  is  not  used  in  the  riding  schools.  No  pace  is  so  well 
adapted  for  giving  determined  and  spirited  action  as  the 
trot,  in  which,  therefore,  the  horse  ought  to  exercise  for 
a  considerable  time,  until  he  performs  his  work  with 
ease,  freedom,  and  vivacity.  To  work  up  a  horse's  head 
and  neck  into  a  proper  position,  or  prevent  him  from 
sinking  his  neck  or  poking  out  his  nose,  does  not  require 
strength,  but  delicacy — a  steady,  soft,  pliable  hand  of 
nice  sensibility,  which  is  acquired  by  practice. 

In  mounting,  the'man  should  approach  the  horse  gently, 
near  the  left  shoulder,  take  up  the  reins  separately,  and 
grasping  a  handful  of  the  mane  in  the  bridle  hand,  place 
the  lift  foot  softly  in  the  stirrup,  raise  himself  up,  rest 
an  instant  with  his  body  upright,  and  pass  his  right  leg 
clear  over  the  saddle  without  rubbing  against  any  thing, 
and  set  himself  gently  down.  The  reins  must  not  be 
taken  up  too  short,  lest  it  should  make  the  horse  rear, 
run,  fall  back,  or  throw  up  his  head;  but  they  should  be 
of  equal  length,  neither  tight  nor  slack.  The  horse 
must  be  accustomed,  from  the  beginning,  to  stand  still 
to  be  mounted,  and  not  move  until  the  rider  please,  and 
for  this  purpose  care  must  be  taken  not  to  alarm  him. 

The  position  of  the  rider  should  be  upright  in  the 
saddle,  his  body  rather  back,  and  his  head  held  up  with 
ease,  but  without  stiffness,  the  breast  pushed  out  a  little, 
the  thighs  and  legs  turned  in  without  constraint,  so  that 
the  inside  of  the  knees  may  press  the  saddle,  the  legs 
hanging  down  naturally  near  the  horse's  sides,  without 


THE  HORSE. 


209 


touching  or  tickling  them,  the  feet  being  parallel,  neither 
turned  in  nor  out,  the  heels  sunk  a  little  lower  than  the 
toes.  The  body  must  be  kept  easy  and  firm  when  in 
motion.  The  left  elbow  should  lean  gently  against  the 
body,  the  left  hand,  which  holds  the  rein,  being  about 
two  and  a  half  inches  forward  of  the  body,  immediately 
abo¥e  the  pommel  of  the  saddle,  and  generally  about  of 
equal  height  with  the  elbow,  the  joint  of  the  wrist  easy 
and  pliable.  In  every  exercise  the  rider  must  carefully 
avoid  all  unsettled  motion  or  wriggling  with  his  legs, 
than  which  nothing  can  be  more  ungraceful  in  itself, 
more  detrimental  to  a  secure  seat  or  more  destructive  of 
the  sensibility  of  the  horse's  sides.  It  is  impossible  on 
the  whole  for  a  man  to  be  too  firm,  gentle,  and  settled 
on  horse  back.  Every  thing  should  be  effected,  if  possi- 
ble, by  the  reins-  only,  in  an  easy,  graceful  and  still 
manner;  the  legs  should  not  be  used  unless  the  hands 
fail,  and  then  with  the  utmost  gentleness.  Bits  should 
not  be  used  in  working  a  horse  in  hand,  until  the  riders 
are  firm  and  the  horses  bend  well  to  the  right  and  left, 
and  even  then  with  the  greatest  care  and  gentleness. 
The  old  custom  of  using  strong ^  and  heavy  bits  is  now 
abandoned  in  all  good  schools,  because  they  pull  down 
the  horse's  head,  obstruct  the  action  of  the  fore  parts, 
and  harden  the  hand  of  the  rider  as  well  as  the  mouth  of 
the  horse. 

A  horse  should  be  taught  to  leap,  by  degrees,  begin- 
ning with  small  leaps,  and  increasing  them  gradually,  as 
the  horse  improves.  When  swimming,  he  must  be  per- 
mitted to  have  his  head,  and  be  as  little  constrained  as 
possible;  he  is  with  difficulty  turned  in  the  water,  and, 
therefore,  it  should  be  done  very  gently  and  carefully,  a 
very  small  portion  of  strength  is  sufficient  to  guide  him. 
To  teach  a  horse  to  stand  fire,  to  bear  the  sound  of  drums, 
and  other  frightful  sights  or  sounds,  he  may  be  accus- 
tomed to  it  by  degrees  at  the  time  of  feeding.  These 
and  all  things  requisite  to  make  a  horse  perfectly  steady, 
may  be  easily  taught  by  good  judgment,  patience,  and 
gentleness,  and  it  is  impossible  to  be  too  circumspect  in 
chastizing  a  horse  on  these  occasions,  for,  instead  of 
making  him  steady,  it  will  frequently  render  him  only 


210 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


more  suspicious  and  more  timid.  An  excellent  writer 
on  horsemanship  has  remarked,  that  whenever  you  see 
a  man  beating  any  animal,  you  will  almost  always  find, 
that  the  man  is  in  the  wrong  and  the  animal  is  in  the 
right.  Of  all  bad  tempers  and  qualities  in  horses,  in- 
deed, those  which  are  occasioned  by  ignorant  riders  and 
harsh  treatment  are  the  worst.  Patience  and  science  are 
the  best  means  of  reclaiming  even  a  wicked  horse;  mere 
force  combined  with  want  of  skill  and  temper  will  only 
tend  to  confirm  him  in  vicious  habits.  The  coolest  and 
best  natured  horsemen,  other  things  being  equal,  will  al- 
ways succeed  best. 

We  need  not  enlarge  on  the  extraordinary  sagacity  and 
affection  of  the  horse;  on  his  social  and  gregarious  dis- 
position; his  love  of  home;  his  wonderful  docility,  and 
the  harsh  and  unfeeling  treatment  which  he  too  often  ex- 
periences, from  the  caprice  of  human  fashions,  and  espe- 
cially from  sordid  yet  fallacious  considerations  of  gain. 

Edinburgh  Encyclopedia. 

My  Horse. — "Why  is  it,"  says  one  of  my  worthy 
neighbors,  "that  your  horse  is  always  in  so  good  case 
and  trim,  and  appears  in  all  the  vigor  and  sprightliness 
of  a  colt,  although  you  keep  him  in  constant  use,  and, 
if  I  mistake  not,  are  not  very  profuse  with  your  grain? 
He  appears  no  more  than  about  eight  years  old,  and  yet 
I  think  you  have  told  me  that  he  was  in  his  teens." 
Such  and  similar  questions  are  not  unusual  with  regard 
to  this  excellent  animal,  whose  age  is  but  a  few  months 
short  of  nineteen  years.  There  is,  to  be  sure,  something 
rather  singular  in  the  case,  for  generally  horses  become 
"food  for  the  hounds"  before  they  can  arrive  to  this  pe- 
riod of  life,  more  or  less  devoted  to  hard  service,  and 
subject  to  much  mismanagement,  ill  treatment,  and  abuse. 
This  faithful  old  family  servant  seems  to  have  lost  little 
of  his  youthful  energy  and  spirit,  and  retains  all  his  es- 
sential powers  in  an  eminent  degree.  His  brilliant  eye 
yet  sparkles  with  fire!  He  shows  a  fine  limb;  and  his 
motions  are  clear  and  sure.  He  is  most  perfectly  man- 
ageable and  submissive  in  his  temper;  often  exhibiting 
a  sagacity  that  might  be  said  to  bear  no  mean  comparison 
with  some  who  have,  by  chance,  sometimes  had  him 


THE  HORSE. 


211 


under  their  merciless  government.  How  long  he  will  be 
able  to  hold  out  in  these  excellent  qualities  is  altogether 
uncertain.  I  could  wish,  however,  that  it  might  be  till 
I  have  no  further  use  for  them.  One  of  my  most  inqui- 
sitive neighbors,  who  is  not  over  exact  in  the  care  of  his 
dumb  beasts,  imagines  that  he  has  made  a  satisfactory 
discovery  relative  to  the  above  queries,  and  that  the 
matter  is  all  now  very  plain.  He  says  that  the  whole 
secret  lies  in  the  manner  of  keeping  and  dealing  with  the 
animal.  It  may  be  so;  indeed,  I  have  supposed  that 
something  of  the  kind  might  be  the  case.  Still,  I  am 
of  opinion  that  the  method  which  I  pursue  is  no  difficult 
one,  and  all  who  did  the  like  would  find  a  benefit  result- 
ing from  it.  I  endeavor  to  be  regular  with  him  in  every 
thing,  believing  this  to  be  of  more  importance  than  is 
commonly  supposed.  In  this  I  never  hesitate  to  give 
my  personal  attention,  when  I  have  reason  to  doubt  the 
faithfulness  of  others.  His  stable  is  suitably  constructed; 
his  forward  feet  stand  upon  a  clay  floor,  and  he  is  per- 
mitted to  lie  down  if  inclined.  His  cleaning  down, 
currying,  blanketing,  food  and  drink,  are  never  neglected. 
He  has  plenty  of  the  best  of  hay,  and  not  unfrequently  a 
quantity  of  raw  potatoes;  but  not  a  superabundance  of 
grain,  because  I  believe  there  is  no  need  of  it,  under  a 
proper  management.  Being  a  herbivorous  animal,  his 
natural  nourishment  is  hay  and  grass,  and  I  deem  it  al- 
ways important  to  follow  nature.  No  one  is  permitted 
to  abuse  him  by  immoderate  driving,  or  otherwise.  Now 
I  would  ask,  is  not  all  this  as  it  should  be?  Does  there 
appear  any  thing  in  the  method  that  is  extravagant  or 
needlessly  expensive?  Nay,  is  it  not  the  most  proper, 
reasonable,  and  humane  course  of  managing  the  most 
valuable  quadruped?  Yet,  for  want  of  this  little  atten- 
tion how  many  a  poor  beast  has  come  to  an  untimely 
end,  to  the  shame  and  disgrace  of  its  unfeeling  owner! 
I  would  that  I  could  awaken  certain  of  my  fellow  citi- 
zens into  a  generous  reflection  and  an  accordance  of 
feeling  on  this  subject.  Let  them  exercise  their  reason, 
also,  and  consider  wherein  is  the  profit,  and  show  how 
far  it  may  be  creditable  to  men  to  permit  any  abuse  to 
an  animal  so  noble  and  so  useful  to  them— an  animal, 


212  SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 

to  use  the  language  of  the  elegant  Pennant,  in  which 
** Providence  has  implanted  a  benevolent  disposition  and 
fear  of  the  human  race,  together  with  a  certain  con- 
sciousness of  the  services  we  can  render  him;  and  one 
that  is  endowed  with  every  quality  that  can  make  him 
subservient  to  the  uses  of  mankind,  and  will  sometimes 
endure  fatigue,  even  to  death,  for  our  benefit. "  Let  us, 
then,  reciprocate  his  kindness,  in  order  to  prolong  his 
life  and  usefulness,  and  render  him  more  fit  for  service. 

Old  Colony  Memorial. 
What  fine  and  useful  animals  are  horses.  We  can  not 
walk  far  so  well,  but  on  horseback  we  can  travel  many 
miles  to  see  our  distant  friends;  and  how  convenient  to 
ride  in  a  carriage  or  light  wagon  in  summer,  and  sleigh 
in  winter.  These  pleasures  we  could  not  have  without 
horses.  Besides,  they  do  a  great  deal  of  hard  work, 
which  men  could  not  well  do.  They  draw  the  plow, 
and  the  heavy  wagons  that  carry  corn  and  hay,  and  other 
things  to  market.  They  travel  so  much  that  their  hoofs 
would  be  worn  out;  so  they  have  iron  shoes  which  the 
smith  nails  on  without  hurting  them  [or  should  do  so], 
for  they  feel  no  more  in  their  hoofs  than  we  do  in  the 
end  of  our  nails.  We  ought  to  take  good  care  of  them, 
.give  them  good  hay  and  oats,  and  not  ride  them  too  hard, 
nor  whip  them  as  some  cruel  people  do;  nor  cut  off 
their  tails.  How  handsome  they  look  with  their  long 
tails  tossing  about!  Their  tails  are  of  great  use  to 
them,  too,  in  keeping  off  the  flies. — Mrs.  Barbauld's 
Lessons. 

Fodder. — One  of  the  most  simple  and  valuable  disco- 
veries in  agriculture,  is  to  mix  layers  of  green  or  new 
-  cut  clover  with  layers  of  straw  [or  hay].  By  this  means 
the  strength  of  the  clover  is  absorbed  by  the  straw, 
which,  thus  impregnated,  both  horses  and  cattle  eat 
greedily,  and  the  clover  is  dried  and  prevented  from 
heating.  This  practice  is  particularly  calculated  for 
second  crops  of  clover  and  rye  grasses. — Paris  Ad- 
vertiser. 

Nicking  of  Horses. — An  effort  in  the  cause  of  humanity 
can  not  require  apology.  We  have  laws  against  cruelty 
to  animals,  and  such  laws  are  very  proper,  but  it  is 


THE  HORSE. 


213 


somewhat  mysterious  to  us,  that  one  of  the  greatest  cru- 
elties that  can  be  practised  on  one  of  the  best  and  most 
useful  animals,  should  not  come  within  the  penalties  of 
those  laws.  The  cruel  practice  of  nicking  horses  is,  it 
seems,  part  of  the  regular  business  of  a  farrier.  For  the 
information  of  those  ignorant  of  the  torture  inflicted 
upon  that  noble  animal,  for  the  gratification  of  one  of 
fashion's  most  extravagant  whims,  we  copy  from  a  far- 
rier's book,  part  of  the  "  third  and  best"  mode  of 
nicking. 

"1st.  The  tail  being  turned  up  with  a  strong  arm  in  a 
direct  line  with  the  back  bone,  cut  immediately  across 
the  tail  one  and  a  half  inches  from  the  root,  deep  enough 
to  separate  entirely  the  tendons  on  each  side  of  the  under 
part  of  the  tail.  The  large  arteries  lie  so  immediately 
under  the  tendons,  that  they  are  often  wounded  or  sepa- 
rated in  performing  this  operation,  wrhich  wTill  be  a  great 
advantage  in  healing  of  the  wounds,  instead  of  doing  in- 
jury by  the  loss  of  blood.  When  he  has  bled  one  or  two 
gallons,  the  bleeding  will  stop  by  placing  the  tail  in  pul- 
leys, or  applying  a  little  salt  or  flour  to  the  wound,  and 
wrapping  it  moderately  tight  with  a  linen  rag. 

"2d.  Make  two  incisions  lengthwise  (commencing  two 
inches  below  the  first  or  transverse  incision),  and  about 
three  inches  in  length,  which  will  expose  the  large  ten- 
dons on  each  side. 

"3d.  Make  two  other  incisions  of  the  same  kind,  com- 
mencing about  one  inch  from  the  second,  and  in  length 
running  within  two  inches  of  the  end  of  the  tail. 

"4th.  Make  a  transverse  incision  within  half  an  inch 
of  the  termination  of  the  incision  made  lengthwise, 
pretty  deep.  With  a  buck's  horn  take  up  the  large  ten- 
dons in  the  second  incisions,  ard  draw  the  ends  out  of 
the  first;  take  up  those  of  the  third  and  draw  the  ends 
out  of  the  second,  and  cut  the  tendons  smooth.  With  a 
strong  arm  strain  up  the  tail  opposite  the  second  incis- 
ions, until  the  bone  slips  or  breaks;  treat  the  tail  oppo- 
site the  third  incision  in  the  same  manner;  also  the  fourth. 
Wash  the  tail  in  strong  salt  water,  and  put  the  horse  in 
a  stall  or  pasture  for  two  or  three  days.  Wash  the 
wounds  clean  with  strong  soap  suds,  and  place  the  horse's 


214 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


tail  in  pulleys  for  three  weeks.  Take  from  the  neck  vein 
half  a  gallon  of  blood  each  week,  or  a  gallon,  should  the 
tail  be  much  inflamed,"  &c. 

We  copy  the  above  disgusting  particulars,  because  we 
know  that  it  is  only  necessary  that  they  should  be  read 
by  many,  to  induce  them  never  to  purchase  a  horse 
which  has  been  so  barbarously  mutilated;  and  to  produce 
this  effect  is  the  object  of  our  article.  To  all  humane 
persons  we  say,  6 'Will  you  not,  if  you  purchase  horses 
that  have  been  nicked,  in  effect  give  your  sanction  to 
the  practice?"  An  experienced  farrier  has  said,  "No 
horse  is  worth  so  much  by  twenty-five  per  cent,  with  his 
tail  cut  off ;"  a  truth  to  which  we  will  add  that,  in  our 
opinion,  no  horse  is  worth  so  much  by  fifty  per  cent, 
that  has  been  "nicked." — New  York  Workingmen's  Ad- 
vocate. 

Refinement. — Take  a  fine,  noble  spirited  horse,  cut 
off  the  hair  of  his  tail  bob  short,  put  him  in  harness 
with  a  short  check  rein,  hitch  him  in  the  sun  where  the 
thermometer  is  as  high  as  ninety,  and  where  flies  are 
plenty.  If  he  is  a  horse  of  common  sense,  he  will  take 
the  first  opportunity  to  run  away  and  destroy  your  car- 
riage, and  dash  out  your  brains  [if  you  have  any]. 

Brooklyn  Star. 

The  unreasonable  rage  of  cutting  off  all  extremities 
from  horses,  is  in  all  cases  a  very  pernicious  custom.  It 
is  particularly  so  in  regard  to  a  troop  horse's  tail.  It  is 
almost  incredible,  how  much  they  suffer  at  the  picket 
for  want  of  it;  constantly  fretting,  and  sweating,  kick- 
ing about  and  laming  one  another,  tormented  and  stung 
off  their  meat,  miserable  and  helpless;  whilst  other 
horses,  with  their  tails  on,  brush  off  all  flies,  are  cool 
and  at  their  ease,  and  mend  daily;  but  the  docked  ones 
grow  every  hour  more  and  more  out  of  condition. 

Whenever  a  horse  makes  resistance,  one  ought,  before 
remedy  or  correction  is  thought  of,  to  examine,  very 
minutely,  all  the  tackle  about  him,  if  any  thing  hurt  or 
tickle  him,  whether  he  has  any  natural  or  accidental 
weakness,  or,  in  short,  any,  the  least  impediment  in  any 
part.  For  want  of  this  precaution,  many  fatal  disasters 
happen;  the  poor  dumb  animal  is  frequently  accused 


THE  HORSE. 


215 


falsely  of  being  restive  and  vicious;  is  used  ill  without 
reason;  and,  being  forced  into  despair,  is  in  a  manner 
obliged  to  act  accordingly,  be  his  temper  and  inclination 
ever  so  well  disposed.  It  is  very  seldom  the  case,  that 
a  horse  is  really  and  by  nature  vicious ;  but  if  such  be 
found  he  will  despise  all  caresses,  and  then  chastisement 
becomes  necessary.  Patience  and  attention  are  never 
failing  means  to  reclaim  such  a  horse;  in  whatever  man- 
ner he  defends  himself,  bring  him  back  frequently  with 
gentleness  (not,  however,  without  having  given  him  pro- 
per chastisement  if  necessary)  to  the  lesson  which  he 
seems  most  averse  to.  Horses  are  by  degrees  made  obe- 
dient, through  the  hope  of  recompense  and  the  fear  of 
punishment;  how  to  mix  these  two  motives  judiciously 
together  is  a  very  difficult  matter;  it  requires  much 
thought  and  practice;  and  not  only  a  good  head  but  a 
good  heart  likewise.  The  coolest  aud  best  natured  rider 
will  always  succeed  the  best.  By  a  dexterous  use  of  the 
incitements  above  mentioned,  you  will  gradually  bring 
the  horse  to  temper  and  obedience.  Mere  force  and 
want  of  skill  and  of  coolness,  would  only  tend  to  confirm 
him  in  bad  tricks.  Horses  are  oftener  spoiled  by  having 
too  much  done  to  them,  and  by  attempts  to  dress  [teach] 
them  in  too  great  a  hurry,  than  by  any  other  treatment. 
After  a  horse  has  been  well  suppled,  and  there  are  no 
impediments,  either  natural  or  accidental,  if  he  still 
persists  to  defend  himself,  chastisements  then  become 
necessary;  but  whenever  this  is  the  case,  they  must  not 
be  frequent,  but  firm,  though  always  as  little  violent  as 
possible.  Of  all  bad  tempers  and  qualities  in  horses, 
those  which  are  occasioned  by  harsh  treatment  and  igno- 
rant riders  are  the  worst. 

Rearing  is  a  bad  vice,  and,  in  weak  horses  especially, 
a  dangerous  one.  While  the  horse  is  up,  the  rider  must 
yield  his  hand;  and  when  the  horse  is  descending,  he 
must  vigorously  determine  him  forwards;  if  this  be  done 
except  when  the  horse  is  coming  down,  it  may  add  a 
spring  to  his  rearing,  and  make  him  fall  backwards. 
With  a  good  hand  on  them,  horses  seldom  persist  in  this 
vice,  being  naturally  afraid  of  falling  backwards.  No 
man  ever  yet  did,  or  ever  will,  stop  a  horse,  or  gain  any 


216 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


one  point  oyer  him,  by  main  force,  or  by  pulling  a  dead 
weight  against  him.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  deal- 
ers are  always  pulling  at  their  horses;  that  they  have 
the  spur  continually  in  their  sides,  and  are  constantly 
checking  at  the  rein;  by  this  means  they  make  them 
bound  and  champ  the  bit,  while  their  rage  [and  writh- 
ing] has  the  appearance  of  spirit. 

We  are  apt  to  suppose  that  a  horse  fears  nothing  so 
much  as  his  driver;  but  may  he  not  in  many  circum- 
stances be  afraid  of  instant  destruction?  of  being  crushed? 
of  being  drowned  ?  of  falling  from  a  precipice?  May  not 
the  hanging  load  of  a  wagon  seem  to  threaten  the  falling 
on  him?  When  suddenly  driven  close  up  to  an  object,  if 
he  starts,  is  it  not  probable  that  he  fears  that  he  must 
run  against  it?  In  these  cases  let  him  see  that  there  is 
room  for  him  to  pass.  A  horse  sees  perfectly  sideways, 
he  is  easily  alarmed  for  his  face  and  eyes,  he  will  even 
catch  back  his  head  from  a  hand  going  to  caress  him; 
defect  of  sight  also  often  causes  starting.  If  you  inflict 
punishment  for  starting,  the  dread  of  chastisement  pre- 
vails, and  will  cause  more  starting  than  the  fear  of  the 
object.  Bring  your  horse  gently  up  to  what  he  is  afraid 
of,  or  let  a  quiet  horse  go  before  him.  In  leading  the 
horse  by  the  bridle,  do  not*  turn  your  face  to  him  if  he 
hesitates  to  follow,  nor  raise  your  arms,  show  the  whip, 
or  jerk  the  bridle;  this  frightens  the  horse,  instead  of 
persuading  him  to  follow,  which  a  little  patience  would 
do.  On  a  journey,  if  he  flags,  indulge  him  upon  the  bit 
more  than  you  would  in  an  airing;  be  not  so  attentive 
to  his  nice  carriage  of  himself,  as  to  your  encouragement 
of  him,  and  keeping  him  in  good  humor. — Britannica. 

Good  heaven!  how  abject  is  our  race, 
Condemned  to  slavery  and  disgrace! 
How  cumb'rous  is  the  gilded  coach! 
The  pride  of  man  is  our  reproach. 
Were  we  designed  for  daily  toil, 
To  drag  the  plowshare  through  the  soil, 
To  sweat  in  harness  through  the  road, 
To  groan  beneath  the  carrier's  load; 
And  must  our  nobler  jaws  submit 


THE  HORSE. 


217 


To  foam  and  champ  the  galling  bit? 

Shall  haughty  man  our  backs  bestride 

And  the  sharp  spur  provoke  our  side? 

If,  then,  to  man  we  lend  our  pains, 

And  aid  him  to  correct  the  plains, 

With  us  should  he  divide  the  grain; 

Who  shares  the  toil,  should  share  the  gain. 

Gay. 

The  Farmer's  Series  of  the  Library  of  Useful  Know- 
ledge, includes  the  most  economical  and  profitable  and 
humane  method  of  treating  domestic  animals;  and  the  art 
of  rendering  their  services  more  extensive  and  perma- 
nent, and  their  health  and  comfort  more  secure;  and  thus 
bettering  the  condition  both  of  the  farmer  and  of  the 
animals  entrusted  to  his  care,  at  the  head  of  which  stands 
the  horse. 

The  foal  should  be  liberally  fed  during  the  whole  of 
his  growth,  and  his  breaking  in  should  commence  early. 
His  management  should  always  be  kind  and  gentle.  For 
no  fault  should  the  servant  be  so  invariably  discharged, 
as  cruelty,  or  even  harshness  towards  the  rising  stock, 
for  their  usefulness  and  obedience  is  founded  on  their 
early  attachment  to  and  confidence  in  man.  After  the 
second  winter  the  foal  may  have  a  small  smooth  bit  to 
play  with  and  champ  for  a  few  days,  and  have  portions 
of  harness,  also,  gradually  put  upon  him,  and  at  length 
go  into  the  team  before  an  empty  wagon,  the  other  horses 
will  keep  him  moving,  and  the  trainer  gives  him  an  occa- 
sional pat  or  kind  word.  We  need  not  repeat  that  no 
whip  or  spur  should  be  used  in  the  first  lessons.  Few, 
we  would  almost  say,  no  horses  are  naturally  vicious. 
It  is  cruel  usage  has  first  provoked  resistance,  which  has 
been  followed  by  greater  severity  and  the  stubbornness 
thus  increased;  an  open  warfare  ensued  in  which  the 
man  seldom  gained  an  advantage,  and  the  horse  was  fre- 
quently rendered  unserviceable.  Young  colts  are  some- 
times very  perverse,  and  many  days  may  pass  before  they 
will  permit  the  bridle  to  be  put  on,  or  the  saddle.  Harsh- 
ness would  double  this  time,  but  patience  and  kindness 
will  at  length  prevail.  On  some  morning  of  better  humor 
20 


218 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


than  usual  the  bridle  will  be  put  on  and  the  saddle  will 
be  worn,  and  this  act  of  compliance  being  followed  by 
kindness  and  soothing,  and  no  pain  or  inconvenience  re- 
sulting, all  resistance  will  be  at  an  end.  We  can  not  much 
improve  on  the  plan  usually  pursued  by  the  breaker,  ex- 
cept that  there  should  be  much  more  kindness  and  pa- 
tience, and  far  less  harshness  and  cruelty,  than  these 
persons  are  accustomed  to  exhibit,  and  a  great  deal  more 
attention  paid  to  the  form  and  natural  action  of  the 
horse. 

Next  to  preserving  the  temper  and  docility  of  the 
horse,  there  is  nothing  so  important  as  to  teach  him  every 
pace  and  every  part  of  his  duty  distinctly  and  thoroughly. 
Being  tolerably  perfect  in  the  walk,  he  may  be  kept  in  a 
steady  trot;  the  lessons  should  be  short,  and  docility  and 
improvement  rewarded  with  frequent  caresses  and  hand- 
fuls  of  corn.  Crupper  straps  may  be  attached  to  the 
clothing,  which,  playing  about  his  sides,  will  accustom 
him  to  the  flapping  of  the  rider's  coat.  The  annoyance 
will  soon  cease,  as,  when  the  colt  finds  no  harm  comes  to 
him  from  these  straps,  he  will  disregard  them.  Hitherto, 
with  a  cool  and  patient  breaker  the  whip  may  have  been 
shown  but  will  scarcely  have  been  used;  the  breaker  may 
now  occasionally  quicken  his  pace  and  at  the  same  time 
tap  the  horse  with  the  whip,  at  first  very  gently;  tl:e  tap 
of  the  whip  and  quickening  of  the  pace  will  soon  become 
associated  in  the  mind  of  the  animal.  If  necessary,  the 
taps  may  gradually  fall  a  little  heavier,  and  the  feeling 
of  pain  be  the  monitor  of  increased  exertion.  In  using 
him  to  the  saddle,  some  little  caution  will  be  necessary. 
If  he  be  uneasy  or  fearful  he  should  be  spoken  kindly  to, 
and  patted,  or  a  mouthful  of  corn  given  to  him;  but  if 
he  offers  serious  resistance,  the  lesson  must  terminate  for 
that  day ;  he  will  probably  be  more  pacified  on  the  mor- 
row. The  rider  must  mount  and  use  the  reins  very  gently, 
guiding  the  horse  by  them,  patting  him  frequently,  and 
having  dismounted  give  him  a  little  corn.  These  pat- 
tings  and  rewards  must  afterwards  be  gradually  dimin- 
ished, and  implicit  obedience  mildly  but  firmly  enforced. 
Severity  will  not  often  be  necessary,  in  the  great  major- 
ity of  cases  it  will  be  altogether  uncalled  for;  but  should 


THE  HORSE. 


219 


the  animal  be  wayward,  it  should  be  used.  Th*  educa- 
tion of  the  horse  is  that  of  the  child.  Pleasure  is,  as  much 
as  possible,  to  be  associated  with  the  early  lessons,  but  firm- 
ness, or,  if  needs  be,  coertion  must  confirm  the  habit  of  obe- 
dience. Tyranny  and  cruelty  will  more  speedily  in  the 
horse  than  even  in  the  child  provoke  the  ivish  to  disobey, 
and  on  every  practicable  occasion,  the  resistance  to  com- 
mand. The  restive  and  vicious  horse,  is,  in  ninety-nine 
cases  out  of  a  hundred,  made  so  by  ill-usage  and  not  by 
nature.  None  but  those  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  try 
the  experiment  are  aware  how  absolute  a  command,  the 
due  admixture  of  firmness  and  kindness  will  soon  give 
us  over  any  horse. 

Horse-breakers,  and  coachmen,  and  cartmen  should  be 
made  to  understand,  that  when  the  horse's  head  is  first 
confined  by  the  bearing  rein,  great  gentleness,  and  care, 
and  caution,  are  necessary.  Injury  must  be  done,  if  the 
throat  be  violently  pressed  upon,  and  especially  when  it  is 
exposed  to  additional  danger,  from  the  impatience  of  the 
animal,  unused  to  control,  and  suffering  pain.  The  head 
of  the  riding  horse  is  gradually  brought  in  by  the  skillful 
teacher  who  increases  or  relaxes  the  pressure,  and  humors 
and  plays  with  the  mouth,  but  the  poor  carriage-horse  is 
confined  by  a  rein  that  never  slackens,  and  his  nose  is 
bent  in  at  the  expense  of  the  larynx  and  windpipe,  which 
being  thus  flattened,  bent  and  twisted,  the  aperture  is 
too  small  for  rapid  breathing,  the  breath  rushes  out  with 
violence,  and  the  sound  and  disease  called  roaring  is 
produced.  The  arched  neck  and  elevated  head  of  the 
carriage-horse  is  an  unnatural  position,  from  which  even 
the  most  accustomed  animal  is  eager  to  be  relieved. 
The  mischief  of  tight  reining  is  usually  done  on  young 
horses. 

A  horse's  biting  is  a  habit  sometimes  acquired  from  the 
foolish  treatment  of  grooms  and  stable  boys;  the  preven- 
tion of  this  is  in  the  power  of  every  proprietor  of  horses. 
While  he  insists  on  the  gentle  and  humane  treatment  of 
his  cattle,  he  should  systematically  forbid  this  practice, 
which  does  not  render  a  horse  tractable  by  operating  as 
a  reward,  nor  increase  his  affection  for  his  groom,  because 
he  is  annoyed  and  irritated,  by  being  thus  incessantly 


220 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


teased.  The  vice  of  kicking  is  often  another  consequence 
of  this  culpable  habit  of  pinching  and  tormenting  the 
horse.  It  is  sometimes  cured  by  fastening  a  thorn  bush 
or  piece  of  furze  on  the  partition.  Shying  on  coining 
out  of  the  stable,  proceeds  from  the  remembrance  of  some 
ill-usage  or  hurt,  received  on  a  former  occasion;  it  is 
difficult  to  cure.  Rearing,  if  it  be  the  fault  of  the  rider 
or  if  he  has  been  using  a  deep  curb  and  sharp  bit,  against 
which  some  of  the  best  horses  will  contend,  maybe  cured 
by  using  a  snaffle  bridle  alone.  The  horse-breaker's 
remedy,  that  of  pulling  the  horse  backwards  on  soft 
ground,  is  worthy  of  him,  and  would  be  practiced  only 
by  reckless  and  brutal  men.  Many  horses  have  been  in- 
jured in  the  spine,  and  others  have  broken  their  necks  by 
being  thus  suddenly  brought  over.  If  rearing  proceeds 
from  vice,  arid  is  unprovoked  by  the  bruising  and  lacera- 
tion of  the  mouth,  it  partakes  of  the  inveteracy  of  all 
other  restiveness.  [The  occasion  and  temptation  for  it 
must  be  avoided,  as  it  can  not  be  cured.] 

Nature  has  given  to  young  animals,  of  every  kind,  a 
disposition  to  activity;  but  to  preserve  the  temper  and 
promote  the  health,  the  exercise  must  not  be  violent.  If 
the  owner  would  insist  that  his  horse  be  exercised  within 
sight,  or  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  residence,  many  an 
accident  and  irreparable  injury  would  be  avoided.  It 
should  be  the  owner's  pleasure,  and  is  his  interest,  per- 
sonally to  attend  to  all  these  things.  He  manages  every 
other  part  of  his  concerns,  and  he  may  depend  on  it,  that 
he  suffers  when  he  neglects  or  is  in  a  manner  excluded 
from  his  stables. 

If  the  horse  were  watered  three  times  a  day,  especially 
in  summer,  he  would  often  be  saved  from  the  sad  torture 
of  thirst  and  from  many  a  disease.  Whoever  has  ob- 
served the  eagerness  with  which  the  overworked  horse, 
hot  and  tired,  plunges  his  muzzle  into  the  pail,  and  the 
•difficulty  of  stopping  him  until  he  has  drained  the  last 
drop,  may  form  some  idea  of  what  he  had  previously  suf- 
fered, and  will  not  wonder  at  the  violent  spasms,  and  in- 
flammation, and  sudden  death,  that  often  results.  Jf  he 
were  oftener  suffered  to  satisfy  his  thirst  in  the  intervals 
of  rest  he  would  be  happier  and  better.    The  horse  who 


THE  HORSE. 


221 


has  frequent  access  to  water,  will  not  drink  so  much  in 
the  day  as  another,  who,  to  cool  his  parched  mouth, 
swallows  as  fast  as  he  can  and  knows  not  when  to  stop. 
It  is  a  judicious  rule  with  travelers,  that  when  a  horse 
begins  to  refuse  his  food,  he  should  be  pushed  no  further 
that  day.  It  may  be  well  to  try  if  this  does  not  proceed 
from  thirst  as  much  as  from  exhaustion,  for  his  appetite 
and  spirits  sometimes  return  after  the  refreshing  draught. 
There  are  many  causes  to  limit  the  duration  of  a  day's 
work  for  a  horse;  we  shall  content  ourselves  with  en- 
deavoring to  check  the  barbarous  practice  of  working 
horses  to  death,  either  by  overdriving  or  overloading 
them,  and,  as  is  generally  the  case,  follow  the  dictates  of 
humanity  and  consult  our  interest  at  the  same  time,  by 
not  injuring  so  useful  an  animal.  We  think  that  on  an 
average,  they  might  be  worked  eight  hours  a  day;  Tred- 
gold,  however,  says  that  with  good  management,  a  full 
day's  work  may  be  completed  in  six  hours,  with  benefit 
to  their  health  and  vigor. 

The  barbarous  operation  of  niching  has  been  long 
sanctioned  by  fashion,  and  the  breeder  or  the  dealer  must 
have  recourse  to  it,  if  he  would  obtain  a  ready  sale  for 
his  colts.  It  is  not,  however,  practiced  to  the  same  ex- 
tent that  it  used  to  be,  nor  attended  by  so  many  circum- 
stances of  cruelty. 

There  is  no  necessity  for  half  the  punishment  which 
many  a  groom  inflicts  on  the  horse  in  the  act  of  dressing. 
The  currycomb  should  always  be  lightly  applied;  and 
even  the  brush  need  not  be  too  hard,  nor  its  bristles  ir- 
regular; a  soft  brush  will  be  much  better. 

The  stable  should  be  as  large  for  the  number  of  horses 
it  is  to  contain  as  circumstances  will  allow,  Proper  ven- 
tilation should  be  secured  by  tubes  or  apertures,  as  far 
above  the  horses  as  they  can  conveniently  be  placed,  that 
all  injurious  draught  may  be  prevented.  A  supply  of 
pure  air  is  necessary  to  the  existence  and  health  of  man 
and  beast.  Humanity  and  interest,  as  well  as  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  stable,  will  induce  the  general  proprietor 
of  the  horse  to  place  under  him  a  moderate  quantity  of 
litter;  and  the  farmer,  who  wants  to  convert  every  other- 
wise useless  thing  into  manure,  will  have  this  additional 


222 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


reason  for  letting  his  horse  always  stand  on  litter.  The 
first  caution  is  frequently  to  remove  it;  for  every  thing 
hastening  to  decomposition  should  be  carefully  removed 
where  life  and  health  are  to  be  preserved. 

To  the  eyes  of  carriage  horses  and  hackneys,  a  dark 
stable  is  little  less  injurious  than  a  foul  and  heated  one. 
Horses  kept  in  a  dark  stable  are  frequently  notorious 
starters,  and  the  often  repeated  violent  effect  of  sudden 
light,  induces  inflammation  of  the  eyes.  Farmers  should 
know  that  a  dark  stable  is  frequently  a  cover  for  great 
uncleanliness.  a  small  cheap  glass  window  would  obviate 
this,  but  the  light  should  not  be  too  glaring,  for  the  stable 
is  the  resting  place  of  the  horse. — Library  of  Useful 
Knowledge. 

[In  the  above  work,  and  the  Encyclopedias  Britannica 
and  Edinburgh,  the  articles  were  either  written  by  tal- 
ented and  experienced  men,  or  by  them  compiled  from 
the  most  scientific  and  practical  treatises  extant ;  however 
greatly  their  directions  for  the  uniform  practice  of  justice 
and  tenderness  may  differ  from  the  existing  customs. 
These  testimonies  are  adduced  the  more  amply,  on  ac- 
count of  the  very  extensive  employment  of  the  horse. 
Where  human  slavery  exists  not,  a  substitute  for  man's 
labor  is  derived  from  animal  slavery.  The  leading  rules 
and  most  of  the  details  for  the  training  and  treatment 
of  the  horse,  may  be  applied  to  oxen  and  other  domesti- 
cated animals;  and  the  pervading  principle  of  constant 
regard  for  their  comfort  is  of  universal  application.] 


A  HUNTING  BALLAD. 

The  huntsman  winds  his  bugle  horn ; 

"To  horse,  to  horse,  halloo,  halloo!" 
His  fiery  courser  snuffs  the  morn, 

And  thronging  dogs  their  lord  pursue. 

The  eager  pack,  from  couples  freed, 

Dash  through  the  bush,  the  brier,  the  brake, 

While  answering  hounds  and  horn  and  steed, 
The  mountain  echoes  startling  wake. 


HUNTING. 


223 


And  fierce  the  huntsman  onward  rides, 

"Tantivy,  yoics,  and  hark  again!" 
While  spurring  from  opposing  sides, 

His  fellow  hunters  join  the  train. 

Fast,  fast  the  huntsmen  onward  ride 
O'er  moss  and  moor,  o'er  holt  and  hill, 

And  onward  fast  on  either  side 

The  baying  grey-hounds  follow  still. 

Up  springs  from  yon  deep  tangled  thorn 
The  stag,  as  white  as  mountain  snow, 

And  sharper  rings  the  bugle  horn, 
"Hark  forward,  yoics,  tally  ho!" 

He  flies  o'er  rustic  fences  fleet, 

Through  fields  where  autumn's  treasures  smile, 
Earned  by  the  farmer's  honest  sweat, 

In  scorching  summer's  sultry  toil. 

The  steeds,  the  cruel  spurs  urge  on, 

The  hounds  the  scourge's  torturing  blow, 

And  harsher  clangs  the  bugle  horn, 
"Hark,  forward,  forward,  holla  ho!" 

A  helpless  wretch  has  crossed  the  way, 
He  gasps  the  thundering  hoofs  below, 

But  live  who  can  or  die  who  may, 

Still,  "forward,  forward!"  on  they  go. 

And  man  and  horse,  and  hound  and  horn, 

Destructive  sweep  the  field  along, 
While  joying  o'er  the  wasted  corn 

Fell  famine  marks  the  maddening  throng. 

Again  uproused,  the  timorous  prey 

Scours  wood  and  stream,  and  vale  and  hill* 

Hard  run,  he  feels  his  strength  decay — 
"Halloo,  hark,  forward!"  echoes  still. 

Too  dangerous  solitude  appeared^ 

He  seeks  the  shelter  of  the  crowd, 
Amid  the  flock's  domestic  herd, 

His  harmless  head  he  hopes  to  shroud. 


224 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


Through  wood  and  stream,  o'er  vale  and  hill, 
His  track  the  steady  blood-hounds  trace: 

Through  wood  and  stream,  o'er  vale  and  hill, 
The  reckless  hunters  urge  the  chase. 

And  loud  they  wind  the  bugle  horn, 

"Tantivy,  forward,  tally  ho!" 
And  through ,the  herd  in  ruthless  scorn, 

They  urge  the  furious  hounds  to  go. 

In  heaps  the  throttled  cattle  fall, 

Down  sinks  the  exhausted,  mangled  deer 

The  murderous  cries  his  heart  appal; 
Again  he  starts  new  nerved  by  fear. . 

But  man  and  horse,  and  horn  and  hound, 

Fast  rattling  on  his  traces  go: 
The  rocks  and  woodlands  ring  around, 

4  *  Away,  hark  forward,  holla  ho!" 

With  wild  despair's  averted  eye, 

Close,  close  behind  he  marks  the  throng 

With  bloody  fangs  and  eager  cry — 
In  frantic  fear  he.  scours*along. 

But  horse  and  man,  and  horn  and  hound, 
And  clamor  of  the  chase  press  on, 

And  hoofs  and  howls,  and  bugle  sound, 
Swell  in  discordant,  frightful  tone. 

With  blood  besmeared  and  white  with  foam, 
While  big  the  tears  of  anguish  flow, 

With  terror,  toil,  and  pain  o'ercome, 
Death's  agony  completes  his  woe. 

The  brutes  have  sacred  rights  to  plead 
(Life,  freedom  food,  and  treatment  mild; 

Though  tyrant  man  makes  nature  bleed), 
God's  meanest  creature  is  his  child. 

Burger,  translated  by  Walter  Scott. 

[In  the  above  extract,  the  words  of  the  huntsmer 
chorus,  and  a  few  other  lines  have  been  varied.  An 
eastern  Nimrod,  who,  after  chasing  a  tiger,  had  been,  in 


HUNTING. 


225 


turn,  pursued  and  almost  destroyed  by  the  quadruped, 
relinquished  this  diversion,  observing,  that  "Tiger-hunt- 
ing was  excellent  sport  when  the  tiger  was  the  sufferer, 
but  when  the  tiger  was  the  hunter,  it  was  not  quite  so 
pleasant." 

While  there  are  hundreds  of  gay  sporting  songs  to  ex- 
cite and  express  the  joyous  feelings  of  the  huntsmen,  it 
is  but  fair  play  that,  at  least,  one,  should  portray  the 
aggravated  miseries  of  the  animals,  and  the  incidental 
evils  of  the  chase.  This  is  done  in  the  German  legen- 
dary ballad  of  Burger;  as  a  counterpoise  to  which,  are 
inserted  the  following  highly  poetic  and  beautiful  verses, 
which  present-the  glowing  charms  of  the  xmase  and  sup- 
press its  disgusting  cruelties.] 

THE  HUNTER'S  HORN. 

Swift  from  the  covert  the  merry  pack  fled, 

When  bounding,  there  sprang  over  valley  and  mead, 

Wide  spreading  his  antlers,  erected  his  head, 

The  stag,  his  enemies  scorning; 
Oh,  had  you  then  seen  through  torrent,  through  brake, 
Each  sportsman,  right  gallant,  his  rival  race  take, 
'Twould  have  pleased  beauty's  ear  to  have  heard  echo 
wake, 

To  the  hunter's  horn — the  hunter's  horn, 
The  hunter's  horn  in  the  morning. 

Cleared  was  the  forest,  the  mountains  passed  o'er,  - 

Yet  swiftly  their  riders  the  willing  steeds  bore, 

The  river  rolled  deep,  where  the  stag  spurned  the  shore, 

Yet  owned  no  timorous  warning; 
So  close  was  he  followed,  the  foam  where  he  sprung, 
Encircled  and  sparkled  the  coursers  among, 
While  the  dogs  of  the  chase  their  rude  melody  rung, 

To  the  hunter's  horn — the  hunter's  horn, 

The  hunter's  horn  in  the  morning. 


[An  eccentric  writer  thus  suggests  the  barbarity  of  the 
chase  as  an  antidote  to  anv  romantic  extreme  of  the  tender 
passion.] 


226  SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 

If  ever  hunting  were  an  innocent  amusement,  and  if 
ever  it  were  desirable  for  man,  it  is  for  this  purpose  [to 
avoid  the  excess  of  love]  that  I  would  have  recourse  to  it. 
Hunting  would  harden  the  heart,  as  well  as  strengthen 
the  body;  it  would  accustom  him  to  cruelty  and  blood, 
and  such  violent  exercise  would  destroy  the  too  great 
susceptibility  of  his  heart. — Rousseau. 

Notwithstanding  the  general  passion  of  most  nations 
for  hunting,  it  has  by  many  been  deemed  an  exercise  in- 
consistent with  the  principles  of  humanity.  The  late 
king  of  Prussia  expressed  himself  on  this  subject  as  fol- 
lows : 

"The  chase  is  one  of  the  most  sensual  of  pleasures, 
by  which  the  powers  of  the  body  are  strongly  exerted, 
but  those  of  the  mind  remain  unemployed.  It  is  an  ex- 
ercise which  makes  the  limbs  strong,  active  and  pliable, 
but  leaves  the  head  without  improvement.  It  consists  in 
a  violent  desire  in  the  pursuit,  and  the  indulgence  of  a 
cruel  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  game.  I  am  convinced, 
that  man  is  more  cruel  and  savage  than  any  beast  of 
prey;  we  exercise  the  dominion  given  us  over  these,  our 
fellow  creatures,  in  the  most  tyrannical  manner.  If  we 
pretend  to  any  superiority  over  the  beasts,  it  ought,  cer- 
tainly, to  consist  in  reason;  but  we  commonly  find  that 
the  most  compassionate  lovers  of  the  chase  renounce  this 
privilege,  and  converse  only  with  their  dogs,  horses,  and 
other  irrational  animals.  This  [their  absolute  and  abused 
power  over  others]  renders  them  wild  and  unfeeling ;  and 
it  is  probable  that  they  can  not  be  very  merciful  to  the 
human  species.  For  a  man  who  can,  in  cold  blood,  tor- 
ture a  poor  innocent  animal,  can  not  feel  much  compas- 
sion for  the  distresses  of  his  own  species:  and  besides, 
can  the  chase  be  a  proper  employment  for  a  thinking 
mind  V9 — Frederick  II. 

The  arguments  used  by  his  majesty  against  hunting 
seem,  indeed,  to  be  much  confirmed  by  considering  the 
various  nations  who  have  most  addicted  themselves  to  it. 
These,  as  must  be  seen  from  what  has  already  been  said, 
were  all  barbarous;  and  it  is  remarkable,  that  Nimrod, 
the  first  great  hunter  of  whom  we  have  any  account,  was 
likewise  the  first  who  oppressed  and  enslaved  his  own 


HUNTING. 


227 


species.  As  nations  advance  in  civilization,  it  always 
becomes  necessary  to  restrain  by  law  the  inclination  of 
the  people  for  hunting.  This  was  done  by  the  wise  leg- 
islator Solon,  lest  the  Athenians  should  neglect  the 
mechanic  arts  on  this  account.  The  Lacedemonians,  on 
the  contrary,  indulged  themselves  in  this  diversion  with- 
out control;  but  they  were  barbarians,  and  most  cruelly 
oppressed  those  whom  they  had  in  their  power,  as  is  evi- 
dent from  their  treatment  of  the  Helots.  The  like  may 
be  said  of  the  Egyptians,  Persians,  and  Scythians,  all  of 
whom  delight  in  war,  and  oppressed  their  own  species. 
The  Romans,  on  the  other  hand,  who  were  somewhat 
more  civilized,  were  less  addicted  to  hunting.  Even 
they,  however,  were  exceedingly  barbarous,  and  found  it 
necessary  to  make  death  and  slaughter  familiar  to  their 
citizens  from  infancy.  Hence  their  diversions  of  the 
amphitheatre  and  circus,  where  the  hunting  of  wild 
beasts  was  shown  in  the  most  magnificent  and  cruel  man- 
ner; not  to  mention  their  still  more  cruel  sports  of  gladia- 
tors, &c. 

In  two  cases  only  does  it  seem  possible  to  reconcile 
the  practice  of  hunting  [even  when  divested  of  all  pro- 
tracted torture]  with  humanity,  viz:  Either  when  an 
uncultivated  country  is  overrun  with  noxious  animals; 
or  when  it  is  necessary  to  kill  wild  animals  for  food. 
In  the  former  case  the  noxious  animals  are  killed  because 
they  themselves  would  do  so  if  they  were  allowed  to 
live;  but  if  we  kill  even  a  lion  or  a  tiger  merely  for  the 
pleasure  of  killing  him,  we  are,  undoubtedly,  chargeable 
with  cruelty.  In  like  manner  our  modern  fox  hunters 
expressly  kill  foxes,  not  in  order  to  destroy  the  breed  of 
these  noxious  animals,  but  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
them  exert  all  their  power  and  cunning  to  save  them- 
selves, and  then  beholding  them  torn  in  pieces  after  being 
half  dead  with  fatigue.  This  refinement  in  cruelty,  it 
seems,  is  their  favorite  diversion. 

The  quick  transition  from  a  state  of  perfect  health  to 
death,  mitigates  the  severity;  but  here  the  transition  is 
not  quick.  The  sportsmen  estimate  their  diversion  by 
the  length  of  the  chase;  and  during  all  that  time  the 
creature  must  be  under  the  strongest  agonies  of  terror. 


228 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


And  what  person  of  humanity  is  there,  who  must  not 
feel  for  an  animal  in  this  situation?  All  this  is  assented  to 
by  an  advocate  of  hunting,  who  says,  * 4 Hard  is  the  heart 
that  does  not  commiserate  the  sufferer."  Is  not  this  an 
acknowledgment  on  his  part,  that  before  a  person  can 
become  a  thorough  sportsman,  he  must  harden  his  heart 
and  stifle  those  amiable  sensations  of  compassion,  which 
on  all  occasions  ought  to  be  encouraged  towards  every 
creature,  unless  in  case  of  necessity.  But  in  the  present 
case  no  necessity  is  or  can  be  pretended.  If  a  gentle- 
man choose  to  regale  himself  with  venison  of  any  kind, 
he  may  breed  the  animals  for  the  purposo  [or  slay  the 
wild  ones  with  as  little  delay  and  pain  as  possible].  We 
call  Domitian  cruel,  because  he  took  pleasure  in  catching 
flies,  and  stabbing  them  with  a  bodkin.  A  butcher  is 
excluded  from  setting  on  a  jury,  on  account  of  his  being 
accustomed  to  sights  which  are  deemed  inhuman;  but 
whether  it  is  deemed  more  inhuman  to  knock  down  an 
ox  at  once  with  an  axe,  or  to  tear  him  in  pieces  with 
dogs  (for  they  will  accomplish  the  purpose  if  properly 
trained),  must  be  left  to  the  sportsmen  to  determine. 

The  great  argument  in  favor  of  hunting,  that  it  con- 
tributes to  the  health  of  the  body  and  exhilaration  of  the 
spirits,  seems  equally  fallacious  with  the  rest.  It  can 
not  be  proved  that  hunters  are  more  healthy  or  long 
lived  than  other  people.  That  exercise  will  contribute 
to  the  preservation  of  health,  as  well  as  to  the  exhilara- 
tion of  the  mind,  is  undoubted;  but  many  other  kinds  of 
exercise  will  do  this  as  well  as  hunting.  A  man  may 
ride  from  morning  to  night,  and  amuse  himself  with 
viewing  and  making  remarks  on  the  country  through 
which  he  passes;  and  surely  there  is  no  person  will  say 
that  this  exercise  will  tend  to  impair  his  health  or  sink 
his  spirits.  A  man  may  amuse  and  exercise  himself,  not 
only  with  pleasure,  but  with  profit  also,  in  many  differ- 
ent ways,  and  yet  not  accustom  himself  to  behold  the 
death  of  animals  with  indifference.  It  is  this  that  con- 
stitutes the  cruelty  of  hunting,  because  we  thus  willfully 
extinguish,  in  part,  that  principle  naturally  implanted 
in  our  nature,  which,  if  totally  eradicated,  would  set  us 
not  only  on  a  level  with  the  most  ferocious  wild  beasts, 


THE  BIRDS. 


229 


but  perhaps  considerably  below  them;  and  it  must  always 
be  remembered,  that  whatever  pleasure  terminates  in 
death  is  cruel,  let  us  use  as  many  palliatives  as  we  please, 
to  hide  that  cruelty  from  the  eyes  of  others,  or  even  from 
our  own. — Encyclopedia  Britannica. 


THE  BIRDS. 

/  On  tree,  or  bush,  the  Lark  was  never  seen; 

f    The  daisied  lea  he  loves;  there  with  his  mate 
He  founds  their  lowly  house.    Beneath  her  breast 
The  young  she  warms  from  morn  to  eve ;  from  eve 
To  morn  shields  from  the  dew;  their  gaping  bills 
Claim  all  the  labor  of  the  parent  care. 

Ah,  labor  vain!  the  herd  boy  long  has  marked 

His  future  prize.    Ah!  little  think 

The  harmless  family  of  love,  how  near 

The  robber  treads!   He  stops  and  parts  the  grass 

And  looks  with  eager  eye  upon  his  prey. 

Quick  round  and  round  the  parents  fluttering  wheel* 
Now  high,  now  low,  and  utter  shrill  the  plaint 
Of  deep  distress.    Pleasure  from  pain  derived 
Is  pleasure  much  alloyed.    The  sportsman  keen 
Comes  forth,  and  heedless  of  the  winning  smile 
Of  infant  day  pleading  on  mercy's  side, 
Anticipates  with  eager  joy  the  sum 
Of  slaughter,  that,  ere  evening  hour,  he'll  boast 
To  have  achieved;  and  many  a  gory  wing, 
Ere  evening  hour,  exultingly  he  sees, 
Drop  fluttering  'mid  the  heath — even  'mid  the  bush* 
Beneath  whose  blooms  the  breeding  mother  sat 
Till  round  her  she  beheld  her  downy  young. 

At  last  mild  twilight  veils  the  insatiate  eye 
And  stops  the  game  of  death;    The  frequent  shot 
Resounds  no  more.    Silence  again  resumes 
Her  lonely  reign,  save  that  the  mother's  call 
Is  heard  repeated  oft,  a  plaintive  note! 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


Mournful  she  gathers  in  her  brood,  dispersed 
By  savage  sport,  and  o'er  the  remnant  spreads 
Fondly  her  wings,  close  nestling  'neath  her  breast 
They  cherished  cower  amid  the  purple  blooms. 

Nor  'mid  the  rigors  of  the  wintry  day, 
Does  savage  man  the  enfeebled  pinion  spare; 
When,  'mid  the  withered  rushes,  he  discerns 
His  destined  prey;  sidelong  he  stooping  steps, 
Wary,  and  with  a  never  erring  aim, 
Scatters  the  flock  wide  fluttering  in  the  snow; 
The  purple  snow  records  the  cruel  deed. 

The  jetty  Blackbird's  fledgeless  young  present 
Five  gaping  bills.    With  busy  wing,  and  eye 
Quick  darting,  all  alert,  the  parent  pair 
Gather  the  sustenance  which  heaven  bestows. 

Alas!  not  long  the  parent's  partial  eye 
Shall  view  the  fledging  wing;  ne'er  shall  they  see 
The  timorous  pinions'  first  essay  at  flight. 
The  tyrant  school  boy's  eager  bleeding  hand 
Their  house,  their  all,  tears  from  the  bending  bush; 
A  shower  of  blossoms  mourns  the  ruthless  deed! 
The  piercing  anguished  note,  the  brushing  wing, 
The  spoiler  heeds  not;  triumphing,  his  way 
Smiling  he  wends.    The  ruined,  hopeless  pair, 
O'er  many  a  field  follow  his  townward  steps, 
Then  back  return,  and  perching  on  the  bush, 
Find  nought  of  all  they  loved,  but  one  small  tuft 
Of  moss  and  withered  roots.    Drooping  they  sit 
Silent.    Afar  at  last  they  fly,  o'er  hill 
And  lurid  moor,  to  mourn  in  other  groves, 
And  soothe,  in  gentler  grief,  their  hapless  lot. 

Meantime  the  younger  victims,  one  by  one, 
Drop  off,  by  care  destroyed,  and  ood  unfit. 
Perhaps  some  one  survives,  encaged,  and  hops 
From  stick  to  stick  his  small  unvaried  round; 
Or  flutt'ring  stands,  with  pinions  plumed  for  flight; 
Poor  birds!  most  sad  the  change!  of  daisied  fields, 
Of  hawthorn  blooming  sprays,  of  boundless  air, 


THE  FACTORY. 


231 


With  melody  replete,  for  clouds  of  smoke, 

Or  creak  of  grinding  wheels,  or  scolding  tongue 

Shrilly  reviling,  more  discordant  still! 

When,  blithe,  the  lamb  pursues  in  merry  chase, 
His  twin  around  the  bush,  the  Linnet  builds 
Her  bower.  Sweet  minstrel,  long  may'st  thou  delight 
The  fragrant  birch.    May  never  fowler's  snare 
Tangle  thy  struggling  foot!  Or  if  thou'rt  doomed, 
Within  thy  narrow  cage,  thy  dreary  days  [cursed!) 
To  pine,  may  ne'er  the  glowing  wire  (oh,  crime  ac- 
Quench  with  fell  agony  thy  shriveling  eye! 
Deprived  of  air  and- freedom,  shall  the  light 
Of  day,  thy  simple  pleasure,  be  denied. 

Nor  is  thy  lot  more  hard  than  that  which  youth 
(Poor  Linnets!)  prove  in  many  a  factory. 
The  light  for  them  is  but  an  implement 
Of  toil.    In  summer  with  the  sun  they  rise 
To  toil;  and  with  his  setting  beam  scarce  cease 
To  toil;  nor  does  the  shortened  winter  day 
Their  toil  abridge;  for  ere  the  cock's  first  crow, 
Aroused  to  toil  they  lift  their  heavy  eyes, 
And  force  their  childish  limbs  to  rise  and  toil ; 
At  eve  their  toil's  protracted;  one  shred  of  time 
Must  not  be  lost,  but  thriftily  ekes  out 
To-morrow's  and  to-morrow's  lengthened  task. 
No  joys,  no  sports  have  they;  what  little  time, 
The  fragment  of  an  hour,  can  be  retrenched 
From  labor,  is  devoted  to  a  sham 
Instruction.    Viewing  all  around  the  bliss 
Of  liberty,  they  feel  its  loss  the  more. 
Freely  through  boundless  air,  they  wistful  see 
The  wild  bird's  pinion  past  their  prison  flit, 
But  no  sweet  note  by  them  is  heard,  all  lost, 
Extinguished  in  the  noise  that  ceaseless  stuns  the  ear. 
Such  are  the  sad  effects  of  that  sad  system, 
Where,  in  the  face  of  nature's  law,  is  wrung 
Gain  from  the  laboring  hands  of  playful  childhood; 
From  living,  intellectual  machines, 
By  senseless,  sordid,  heartless  avarice. 

The  Birds  of  Scotland,  by  James  Grahame. 


232 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


THE  LOST  SHIP. 

41 1  heard  one  wild  yell — still  ringing  in  my  ears — and  I  saw  the 
ARCTIC  and  the  struggling  mass  rapidly  engulphed  " 

f  A  piercing  cry  comes  from  the  waves — a  wail 
/    Of  agony — the  last  shriek  of  despair. 

T  hear  it  in  my  noonday  toil;  my  dreams 

But  echo  back  that  note  of  wo. 

At  eve, 

My  fancy  paints  the  sky  with  deeper  gloom ; 
The  very  atmosphere  seems  tainted  with 
The  odor  of  the  grave.    The  yellow  leaves 
That  rustle  at  my  feet — -the  autumn  wind 
Through  leafless  branches  sighing — tell  of  death; 
That  where  the  living  are,  there  are  the  dead; 
That  as  the  dead  so  will  the  living  be. 

Roll  on,  remorseless  ocean!  thou  canst  not 
Disturb  their  sleep — thy  victims  rest  in  peace 
Beneath  the  salt  wave's  foam.    0  better  far 
Were  pity's  tear  for  those,  the  "living-slain," 
Whose  pale  lips,  quiver  o'er  the  briny  cup  of  wo. 

John  H.  Canoll. 


To  be  read  in  School. — There  are  few  things  more 
disgraceful  in  children  than  to  be  cruel  to  those  harm- 
less creatures,  which  are  unable  to  defend  themselves. 
If  I  see  a  child  pull  off  the  wings  of  an  insect,  or  throw 
stones  at  the  toad,  or  take  pains  to  set  foot  upon  a  worm, 
I  am  sure  that  there  is  something  wrong  about  him,  or 
that  he  has  not  been  well  instructed.  There  was  once  a 
boy  who  loved  to  give  pain  to  every  thing  that  came  in 
his  way,  over  which  he  could  gain  any  power.  He  would 
take  eggs  from  the  mourning  robin,  and  torture  the  un- 
fledged sparrow,  cats  and  dogs,  the  peaceable  cow,  and 
the  faithful  horse,  he  delighted  to  worry  and  distress.  I 
do  not  like  to  tell  you  the  many  cruel  things  that  he  did. 


BENEDICT  ARNOLD. 


233 


He  was  told  that  such  things  were  wrong.  An  excellent 
lady  with  whom  he  lived  used  to  warn  and  reprove  him 
for  his  evil  conduct — but  he  did  noj;  reform.  When  he 
grew  up  he  became  a  soldier.  He  was  never  sorry  to 
see  men  wounded,  and  blood  running  upon  the  earth. 
He  became  so  wicked  as  to  lay  a  plan  to  betray  his  coun- 
try, and  to  sell  it  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  This  is 
to  be  a  traitor.  But  he  was  discovered,  and  fled.  He 
never  dared  return  to  his  native  land,  but  lived  despised, 
and  died  miserably  in  a  foreign  clime.  Such  was  the 
end  of  the  cruel  boy,  who  loved  to  give  pain  to  animals. 
He  was  born  at  Norwich,  in  Connecticut,  and  the  beau- 
tiful city  of  his  birth  is  ashamed  of  his  memory.  His 
name  was  Benedict  Arnold. 

How  far  Benevolence  should  Extend. — Even  as  that 
feeling  of  extended  benevolence  which  led  a  Howard  to 
the  cell  of  a  prison,  and  prompted  a  La  Fayette  to  aid 
the  struggle  for  independence  in  infant  America— even 
as  such  a  sentiment  is  nobler,  because  less  contracted 
than  local  or  party  attachments,  so  is  that  philanthropy 
incomplete,  which,  after  embracing  the  human  race, 
stops  short  and  evinces  no  sympathy  with  other  sentient 
creatures.  Brutes,  like  men,  suffer  and  enjoy;  we  ought 
to  lament,  and  endeavor  to  avert,  as  far  as  opportunity 
offers,  their  sufferings;  and  we  may  find  a  pure  source 
of  pleasure  in  contributing  towards  their  well  being  and 
contemplating  their  comfort,  the  result  of  our  exertions. 

The  station  held  by  the  gentler  sex,  it  has  been  said, 
is  a  sure  criterion  of  civilization:  so,  it  seems  to  me,  is 
the  treatment  of  the  lower  animals.  I  could  not  think 
highly  of  a  nation  that  should  treat  these  dumb  servants 
with  neglect  and  cruelty:  and  I  hardly  know  a  more  am- 
iable national  characteristic  than  a  custom  said  to  be 
universal  in  Sweden,  of  exposing,  during  the  Christmas 
holidays,  a  sheaf  of  unthreshed  wheat  on  a  pole  in  the 
vicinity  of  each  dwelling,  that  even  the  poor  sparrows, 
reduced  perhaps  during  the  inclement  season  almost  to 
starvation,  may  share  the  enjoyment  of  man,  and  rejoice 
at  his  period  of  festivity. — Indiana  Disseminator. 

The  Lower  Order  of  Animals. — I  know  not  upon 
what  principle  of  reason  and  justice  it  is,  that  mankind 


234 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


have  founded  their  right  over  the  lives  of  every  creature 
that  is  placed  in  a  subordinate  rank  of  being  to  them- 
selves. Whatever  claim  they  may  have  in  right  of  food 
and  self-defence,  did  they  extend  their  privilege  no  fur- 
ther than  those  articles  would  reasonably  carry  them, 
numberless  beings  might  enjoy  their  lives  in  peace,  which 
are  now  hurried  out  of  them  by  the  most  wanton  and 
unnecessary  cruelties.  I  can  not  indeed  discover  why  it 
should  be  less  inhuman  [in  principle]  to  crush  to  death  a 
harmless  insect,  whose  single  offence  is  that  he  eats  that 
food  which  nature  has  prepared  for  his  sustenance,  than 
it  could  be  to  kill  any  more  bulky  creature  for  the  same 
reason.  There  are  few  tempers  so  hardened  to  the  im- 
pressions of  inhumanity,  as  not  to  shudder  at  the  thought 
of  the  latter;  and  yet  the  former  is  practiced  without  the 
least  check  of  compassion.  This  seems  to  arise  from  the 
gross  error  of  supposing  that  every  creature  is  really  in 
itself  contemptible,  which  happens  to  be  clothed  with  a 
body  greatly  disproportionate  to  our  own;  not  consider- 
ing that  great  and  little  are  merely  relative  terms.  The 
millipedes,  for  instance,  rolls  itself  round  upon  the  slight- 
est touch;  and  the  snail  gathers  in  her  horns  upon  the 
least  approach  of  our  hand — are  not  these  the  strongest 
indications  of  their  sensibility?  And  is  it  any  evidence 
of  ours,  that  we  are  not  therefore  induced  to  treat  them 
with  a  more  sympathizing  tenderness?  I  was  extremely 
pleased  with  a  sentiment  I  met  with  the  other  day  in 
honest  Montaigne.  That  good  natured  author  remarks, 
that  " there  is  a  certain  general  claim  of  kindness  and 
benevolence  which  every  species  of  creatures  have  a  right 
to  from  us."  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  this  generous 
maxim  is  not  more  attended  to  in  education,  and  pressed 
home  upon  tender  minds  in  its  full  extent  and  latitude. 
I  am  far  indeed  from  thinking  that  the  early  delight 
which  children  discover  in  tormenting  flies,  &c,  is  a 
mark  ot  an  innate  cruelty  of  temper;  because  this  turn 
may  be  accounted  for  upon  other  principles;  and  it  is 
entertaining  unworthy  notions  of  the  Deity,  to  suppose 
that  he  forms  mankind  with  a  propensity  to  the  most  de- 
testable of  all  dispositions.  But  most  certainly,  by  being 
unrestrained  in  sports  of  this  kind,  they  may  acquire  by 


THE  LOWER  ANIMALS, 


235 


habit,  what  they  never  would  have  learned  from  nature, 
and  grow  up  in  a  confirmed  inattention  to  every  kind  of 
suffering  but  their  own.  Accordingly,  the  supreme  court 
of  judicature  at  Athens  thought  an  instance  of  this  sort 
not  below  its  cognizance,  and  punished  a  boy  for  putting 
out  the  eyes  of  a  poor  bird,  that  had  unhappily  fallen 
into  his  hands. 

It  might  be  of  service,  therefore,  it  should  seem,  in 
order  to  awaken,  as  early  as  possible,  in  children  an  ex- 
tensive sense  of  humanity,  to  give  them  a  view  of  several 
sorts  of  insects,  as  they  may  be  magnified  by  the  assist- 
ance of  glasses,  and  to  show  them  that  the  same  evident 
marks  of  wisdom  and  goodness  prevail  in  the  formation 
of  the  minutest  insect,  as  in  that  of  the  most  enormous 
leviathan;  that  they  are  equally  furnished  with  whatever 
is  necessary  not  only  to  the  preservation,  but  the  happi- 
ness of  their  beings  in  that  class  of  existence  to  which 
Providence  has  assigned  them;  in  a  word,  that  the  whole 
construction  of  their  respective  organs  distinctly  pro- 
claim them  the  objects  of  the  divine  benevolence,  and 
therefore  that  they  justly  ought  to  be  so  of  ours. 

Anon. 

Can  man  conceive  that  all  the  different  kinds,  and  or- 
ders, and  classes  of  animals,  thus  differently  organized, 
and  differently  endowed  with  intelligence,  and  possessed 
of  an  equality  of  corporal  feeling,  that 

The  poor  worm  whom  thou  treacPst  on. 
In  corporal  suffering,  feels  a  pang  as  great 
As  when  a  giant  dies. 

This  is  an  interesting  question,  and  deserves  to  be 
examined  at  some  length.  It  may,  perhaps,  save  the 
heart  of  genuine  sensibility  from  a  few  of  those  pangs 
which,  even  under  the  happiest  circumstances  of  life  will 
still  be  called  forth  too  frequently,  and  if  there  be  a  hu- 
man being  so  hardened  and  barbarized  as  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  conclusion  to  which  the  inquiry  may  lead 
us,  he  will  furnish  an  additional  proof  of  its  correctness 
in  his  own  person,  and  show  himself  utterly  disqualified 
for  the  discussion. 

Life  and  sensation  are  not  necessarily  connected ,  tho 


236 


SPIRIT   OF  HUMANITY. 


blood  is  alive,  but  we  know  not  that  it  has  sensation, 
and  vegetables  are  alive,  but  we  know  not  that  they 
possess  any.  Sensation,  so  far  as  we  are  able  to  trace 
it,  is  the  sole  result  of  a  nervous  structure,  yet,  though 
thus  limited,  it  does  not  exist  equally  in  every  kind  of 
the  same  structure,  nor  in  every  part  of  the  same  kind. 
As  the  degree  of  intelligence  decreases,  we  have  reason 
to  believe  that  the  intensity  of  the  touch,  or  corporeal 
feeling,  decreases  also,  excepting  in  particular  organs, 
in  which  the  sense  of  touch  is  employed  as  a  local  power. 
In  many  animals  of  the  three  classes  of  amphibials,  in- 
sects, and  worms,  dreadful  wounds,  unless  actually  mor- 
tal, seem  hardly  to  accelerate  death;  hence  the  pain 
endured  by  such  animals  must  be  considerably  less  than 
would  be  suffered  by  animals  of  a  more  perfect  kind, 
especially  by  man.  M.  Ribaud,  with  a  spirit  of  experi- 
menting that  I  will  not  justify,  stuck  different  beetles 
through  with  pins,  and  severely  lacerated  others,  all  of 
which  lived  their  usual  term  as  though  uninjured.  Eedi 
removed  the  whole  brain  from  a  land  tortoise;  its  eyes 
closed  soon  after,  but  it  moved  about  as  before,  and 
groped  for  its  path ;  a  fleshy  integment  grew  over  the 
opening  of  the  skull,  and  the  animal  lived  for  six  months. 
I  will  not  pursue  this  argument  any  further;  it  is  in 
many  respects  painful  and  abhorrent;  and  consists  of 
experiments  of  which  I  never  have  been,  and  trust  I  never 
will  be,  a  participant.  But  I  avail  myself  of  the  facts 
themselves,  in  order  to  establish  an  important  conclusion 
in  physiology. — John  Mason  Good's  Book  of  Nature. 

If  we  were  to  change  the  epithets  usually  applied  to 
noxious  and  disagreeable  insects  and  animals,  it  might 
form  new  associations  of  ideas  in  the  minds  of  the  rising 
generation,  and  destroy  their  foolish  prejudices.  Thus 
we  might  call  the  spider,  ''the  ingenious  spider,"  and  the 
frog,  ''the  harmless  frog."  Young  persons  should  learn 
to  draw  those  insects  they  have  an  aversion  to,  and  by 
that  means  they  would  be  accustomed  to  the  figures  of 
the  insects  and  would  not  mind  them. — Darwin. 


(  237  ) 


FABLES. 

The  Boys  and  the  Frogs. — On  the  margin  of  a  large 
lake,  which  was  inhabited  by  a  great  number  of  frogs,  a 
company  of  boys  happened  to  be  at  play.  Their  diver- 
sion was  duck  and  drake;  and  whole  volleys  of  stones 
were  thrown  into  the  water,  to  the  great  annoyance  and 
danger  of  the  poor  terrified  frogs.  At  length  one  of  the 
most  hardy,  lifted  up  his  head  above  the  surface,  of  the 
lake:  Ah,  dear  children,  said  he,  why  will  you  learn  so 
soon  the  cruel  practices  of  your  race?  Consider,  I  be- 
seech you,  that  though  this  may  be  sport  to  you,  'tis  death 
to  us. 

Moral. — 'Tis  unjust  and  cruel,  to  raise  ourselves  mirth 
at  the  expense  of  another's  peace  and  happiness. 

The  Wolf  and  the  Lamb. — When  cruelty  and  injustice 
are  armed  with  power,  and  determined  on  oppression, 
the  strongest  pleas  of  innocence  are  proffered  in  vain. 

A  wolf  and  lamb  were  accidentally  quenching  their 
thirst  together  at  the  same  rivulet.  The  wTolf  stood  to- 
wards the  head  of  the  stream,  and  the  lamb  at  some  dis- 
tance below.  The  injurious  beast  resolved  on  a  quarrel, 
fiercely  demands:  How  dare  you  disturb  the  water  which 
I  am  drinking  ?  The  poor  lamb,  all  trembling,  replies, 
How,  I  beseech  you  can  that  possibly  be  the  case,  since 
the  current  sets  from  you  to  me  ?  Disconcerted  by  the 
force  of  truth,  he  changes  the  accusation:  Six  months 
ago,  says  he,  you  vilely  slandered  me.  Impossible,  re- 
turns the  lamb,  for  I  was  not  then  born.  No  matter,  it 
was  your  father  then,  or  some  of  your  relations;  and 
immediately  seizing  the  innocent  lamb,  he  tore  him  to 
pieces. 

Moral. — They  who  do  not  feel  the  sentiments  of  hu- 
manity, will  seldom  listen  to  the  pleas  of  reason. 

The  Ass  and  his  Tyrant.— A  diligent  ass,  daily  loaded 
beyond  his  strength  by  a  severe  master  whom  he  had  long 
served,  and  who  kept  him  at  very  short  commons,  hap- 
pened one  day  to  be  oppressed  with  a  more  than  ordinary 


238 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


burthen  of  earthen  ware.  His  strength  being  much  im- 
paired, and  the  road  deep  and  uneven,  he  unfortunately 
made  a  trip,  and,  unable  to  recover  himself,  fell  down 
and  broke  all  the  vessels  to  pieces.  His  master,  trans- 
ported with  rage,  began  to  beat  him  most  unmercifully. 
Against  whom  the  poor  ass,  lifting  up  his  head  as  he  lay 
on  the  ground,  thus  strongly  remonstrated:  Unfeeling 
wretch!  to  thy  own  avaricious  cruelty,  in  first  pinching  me 
of  food,  and  then  loading  me  beyond  my  strength,  thou 
owest  the  misfortune  which  thou  so  unjustly  impuiest  to  me. 

The  Lion  and  the  Man. — The  lion  in  a  dispute  with 
the  hunter,  contends  that  his  own  strength  is  superior  to 
that  of  man.  After  a  long  controversy,  the  hunter  leads 
the  lion  to  a  monument  on  which  was  carved  a  lion  lay- 
ing down  his  head  on  the  lap  of  a  man.  The  beast  de- 
nies that  to  be  sufficient  proof;  6 'For,99  says  he,  "men 
carved  what  they  would;  but  if  lions  were  the  artists,  the 
man  would  now  be  represented  under  the  feet  of  the  lion.91 

Esop. 

The  Wolf  and  the  Shepherds. — How  apt  are  men  to 
condemn  in  others  what  they  practice  themselves  without 
scruple! 

A  wolf  peeping  into  a  hut,  where  a  company  of  Shep- 
herds were  regaling  themselves  with  a  joint  of  mutton: 
Waugh!  said  he,  what  a  clamor  would  these  men  have 
raised,  if  they  had  catehed  me  at  such  a  banquet! 

Plutarch. 

Vice  and  Fortune. — Fortune  and  vice  had  once  a  vio- 
lent contest,  which  of  them  had  it  most  in  their  power  to 
make  mankind  unhappy.  Fortune  boasted  that  she  could 
take  from  men  every  external  good,  and  bring  upon  them 
every  external  evil.  Be  it  so,  replied  vice;  but  this  is 
by  no  means  sufficient  to  make  them  miserable  without 
my  assistance:  whereas  without  yours,  I  am  able  to  ren- 
der them  completely  so;  nay,  in  spite  too  of  all  your  en- 
deavors to  make  them  happy.— Plutarch. 

Pythagoras  and  the  Critic. — -Pythagoras  was  one  day 
very  earnestly  engaged  in  taking  an  exact  measure  of  the 
length  of  the  Olympic  course.  A  conceited  critic,  smiling 
to  see  the  philosopher  so  employed,  asked  him  why  he  gave 
himself  so  much  trouble.  Because,  replied  Pythagoras,  we 


FABLES. 


239 


are  assured,  that  Hercules,  when  he  instituted  the  Olym- 
pic games,  himself  laid  out  this  course  by  measure,  and 
determined  it  to  the  length  of  six  hundred  feet,  measur- 
ing it  by  the  standard  of  his  own  foot.  Now  by  taking 
an  exact  measure  of  this  space,  and  seeing  how  much  it 
exceeds  the  measure  of  the  same  number  of  feet  now  in 
use,  we  can  find  how  much  the  foot  of  Hercules,  and  in 
proportion  his  whole  stature,  exceeded  that  of  the  pre- 
sent generation.  A  very  curious  speculation,  says  the 
critic,  and  of  great  use  and  importance,  no  doubt!  And 
pray  sir,  what  may  be  the  result  of  your  inquiry  at  last? 
The  result  of  my  inquiry  replied  the  philosopher,  is  this; 
that  if  you  alivays  estimate  the  labors  of  the  philosopher, 
the  designs  of  the  patriot,  and  the  actions  of  the  hero,  by 
the  standard  of  your  own  narrow  conceptions,  you  will  ever 
be  greatly  mistaken  in  your  judgment  concerning  them. 

The  Bear. — A  bear,  who  was  bred  in  the  savage  deserts 
of  Siberia,  had  an  inclination  to  see  the  world.  He 
traveled  from  forest  to  forest,  and  from  one  kingdom  to 
another,  making  many  profound  observations  in  his  way. 
In  the  course  of  his  excursions,  he  came  by  accident  into 
a  farmer's  yard,  where  he  saw  a  number  of  poultry  stand- 
ing to  drink  by  the  side  of  a  pool.  Observing  that  at 
every  sip  they  turned  up  their  heads  towards  the  sky,  he 
could  not  forbear  inquiring  the  reason  of  so  peculiar  a 
ceremony.  They  told  him,  that  it  was  by  way  of  return- 
ing thanks  to  heaven  for  the  benefits  they  received;  and 
was  indeed  an  ancient  and  religious  custom,  which  they 
could  not,  with  a  safe  conscience,  or  without  impiety, 
omit.  Here  the  bear  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  and  at 
Once  mimicking  their  gestures,  and  ridiculing  their  super- 
stition, in  the  most  contemptuous  manner.  On  this,  the 
cock,  with  a  spirit  suitable  to  the  boldness  of  his  char- 
acter, addressed  him  in  the  following  words:  As  you  are 
a  stranger,  sir,  you  may  perhaps  be  excused  the  indecency 
of  this  behaviour;  yet  give  me  leave  to  tell  you,  that 
none  but  a  bear  would  ridicule  any  religious  ceremonies 
whatever,  in  the  presence  of  those  ivho  believe  them  of  im- 
portance.— Dodsley's  Fables 


(  240) 


THE  WILD  BOAR  AND  THE  SHEEP. 

/  Against  an  elm  a  sheep  was  tied, 
The  butcher's  knife  in  blood  was  dyed: 
The  patient  flock,  in  silent  flight, 
From  far  beheld  the  horrid  sight, 
A  savage  boar,  who  near  them  stood, 
Thus  mocked  to  scorn  the  fleecy  brood. 

All  cowards  should  be  served  like  you. 
See,  see,  your  murderer  is  in  view; 
With  purple  hands,  and  reeking  knife, 
He  strips  the  skin  yet  warm  with  life, 
Your  quartered  sires,  your  bleeding  dams, 
The  dying  bleat  of  harmless  lambs, 
Call  for  revenge!    0  stupid  race! 
The  heart  that  wants  revenge  is  base. 

I  grant,  an  ancient  ram  replies, 

We  bear  no  terror,  in  our  eyes ; 

Yet  think  us  not  of  soul  so  tame; 

Which  no  repeated  wrongs  inflame; 

Insensible  of  every  ill, 

Because  we  want  thy  tusks  to  kill. 

Know,  those  who  violence  pursue, 

Give  to  themselves  the  vengeance  due, 

For  in  these  massacres  they  find 

The  two  chief  plagues  that  waste  mankind. 

Our  skin  supplies  the  wrangling  bar, 

It  wakes  their  slumbering  sons  to  war; 

And  well  revenge  may  rest  contented, 

Since  drums  and  parchment  were  invented. — Gay. 

Can  a  generous  mind  be  contented  to  see 
Aught  that  feeling  possesses  endure  misery  ? 
Both  justice  and  mercy  demand  wholesome  laws; 
The  wretch  who,  unmoved,  bitter  anguish  can  cause 
Full  amply  deserves  the  same  pangs  to  sustain, 
And  be  punished  himself  with  like  exquisite  pain. 

Poems  for  Youth,  by  M.  P.,  London. 


(241) 


PROVERBS. 

THE  COMMENTS  BY  THOMAS  FIELDING. 

/  Human  blood  is  all  of  one  color. 

f  Not  the  pain  but  the  cause  makes  the  martyr. 

Not  the  scaffold  but  the  crime  makes  the  disgrace. 

Laws  are  not  made  for  the  good. 

Love  is  incompatible  with  fear. 

A  man  is  a  lion  in  his  own  cause. 

There  is  nothing  like  a  man's  having  "a  stake  in  the  hedge."  Give 
a  good  servant  a  share  in  the  firm  and  he  is  zealous  for  his  employer, 
or  a  citizen  his  political  rights  and  he  fights  valiantly  for  the  com- 
monwealth. There  could  be  no  patriotism  among  feudal  vassals  [nor 
negro  slaves]  who  have  neither  property  nor  justice.  They  might  ex- 
claim with  the  Spanish  proverb. 

To  what  place  can  the  ox  go  where  he  must  not  plough  i 
How  can  the  cat  help  it  if  the  maid  is  a  fool  ? 
"  Said  when  the  maid  does  not  set  up  things  securely  out  of  the  cat's 
way. 

Feed  a  pig  and  you'll  have  a  hog. 

The  master's  eye  makes  the  horse  fat. 

A  fat  man  riding  on  a  lean  horse  was  asked  why  he  was  so  fat  and 
his  horse  so  lean?  "Because,"-  says  he,  UI  feed  myself,  but  my  servant 
feeds  my  horse." 

He  gives  twice  that  gives  in  a  trice. 

He  that  benefits  the  public  obliges  nobody. 

A  mob  has  many  heads  but  no  brains. 

When  honor  grew  mercenary,  money  grew  honorable. 

The  best  throw  of  the  dice  is  to  throw  them  away. 

A  liar  has  no  legs,  but  a  slander  has  wings. 

A  liar  is  a  bravo  towards  God,  and  a  coward  towards 
men. 

A  man  that  breaks  his  word,  bids  others  be  false  to 
him. 

A  liar  is  not  to  be  believed  when  he  speaks  the  truth.. 
Bear  and  forbear  is  good  philosophy. 
Do  not  evil  to  get  good  by  it,  which  never  yet  happened; 
to  any. 

Do  what  you  ought,  come  what  can. 
Drunkenness  is  voluntary  madness. 
22 


342 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


He  that  kills  a  man  when  he  is  drunk  must  be  hanged 
when  he  is  sober. 

The  example  of  good  men  is  philosophy  visible.  " 

Folly  is  the  poverty  of  the  mind. 

He  who  knows  useful  things,  and  not  he  who  knows 
many  things  is  the  wise  man. 

The  best  mode  of  instruction  is  to  practice  what  we 
preach. 

Hell  is  full  of  good  meanings,  but  heaven  is  full  of  good 
works. 

If  every  one  mended  one  all  would  be  mended. 

The  longest  life  is  but  a  parcel  of  moments. 

It  is  human  to  err,  but  diabolical  to  persevere. 

Knowledge  concealed  is  buried  treasure. 

Knowledge  directs  practice,  yet  practice  increases 
knowledge. 

Never  be  weary  of  well-doing. 

Repent  a  good  action;  if  you  can. 

Even  the  wicked  hate  vice  in  others. 

Of  all  wars  peace  ought  to  be  the  end. 

When  the  drums  beat,  the  laws  are  silent. 

War  is  the  sink  of  all  injustice. 

A  good  conscience  is  a  continual  feast. 

Nature  takes  as  much  pains  in  the  womb  in  forming  a 
beggar  as  an  emperor. 

It  is  a  bad  rule  that  will  not  work  both  ways. 


APHORISMS. 

Men  in  no  respect  approach  so  nearly  to  God,  as  in 
conferring  well-being  on  men. — Cicero. 

Be  always  at  leisure  to  do  good;  never  make  business 
an  excuse  to  decline  the  offices  of  humanity. — Marcus 
Aurelius. 

Charity  is  the  scope  of  all  God's  commands. 

St.  Chrysostome. 
He  who  conceals  a  useful  truth,  is  equally  guilty  with 
the  propagator  of  an  injurious  falsehood. — St.  Augustine. 


THE  PASSIONS  AND  AFFECTIONS.  243 


It  is  better  to  retain  children  in  their  duty  by  a  sense 
of  honor  and  by  kindness,  than  by  fear  or  severity. 

Terence. 

Power  acquired  by  guilt,  no  one  ever  exercised  to  any 
good  purpose. — Tacitus. 

Put  this  restriction  on  your  pleasures:  be  cautious  that 
they  injure  no  being  that  has  life. — Zimmerman. 

Never  do  that  through  another,  which  it  is  possible  to 
execute  yourself. — Montesquieu. 

Cowards  are  cruel,  but  the  brave 
Love  mercy  and  delight  to  save. — Gay. 
f  What  scolding  persons  could  ever  govern  a  family. 
People  scold  because  they  can  not  govern  themselves,  how 
then  can  they  govern  others  ?  Those  who  govern  well 
are  generally  calm;  they  are  prompt  and  resolute,  but 
steady  and  mild. 

Education  polishes  good  natures  and  corrects  bad  ones. 
Might  overcomes  right. 

With  polished  manners  polished  minds  agree. 
And  true  politeness  is  philanthropy. — Cowper. 


THE  PASSIONS  AND  AFFECTIONS. 

The  joy  and  gayety  and  happiness  of  any  nature  [being] 
of  which  we  have  formed  no  previous  opinion,  either 
favorable  or  unfavorable,  nor  obtained  any  other  ideas 
than  merely  that  it  is  sensitive,  fill  us  with  joy  and  delight. 
The  apprehending  the  torments  of  any  such  sensitive  na- 
ture gives  us  pain.  When  indeed  we  have  received  un- 
favorable apprehensions  of  any  nature,  as  cruel  and  sav- 
age, we  begin  from  our  very  public  affections,  to  desire 
their  misery,  as  far  as  it  may  be  necessary  to  the  protec- 
tion of  others. 

But  that  the  misery  of  another  for  its  own  sake  is  nevei 
grateful,  we  may  all  find  by  making  this  supposition: 
that  we  had  the  most  savage  tiger  or  crocodile,  or  some 
#reat  monster  of  our  own  kind,  a  Nero  or  Domitian, 
chained  in  some  dungeon;  that  we  were  perfectly  assured 
they  should  never  have  power  of  doing  further  injuries; 


244 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


that  no  mortal  should  ever  know  their  fate  or  fortunes, 
nor  be  influenced  by  them;  that  the  punishments  inflict- 
ed on  them  would  never  restrain  others  by  way  of  ex- 
ample, nor  any  example  shown  be  discovered;  and  that 
the  first  heat  of  our  resentment  were  allayed  by  time. 
No  mortal  in  such  a  case  would  incline  to  torture  such 
wretched  natures,  or  keep  them  in  continual  agonies, 
without  some  prospect  of  good  arising  from  their  suf- 
ferings. On  apprehending  injury  to  ourselves  or  others, 
nature  wisely  determines  us  to  study  defence  not  only 
for  the  present,  but  for  the  future.  The  uneasy  sensa- 
tions of  anger  arise,  and  this  furious  pain  is  allayed 
by  the  misery  of  the  injurious.  Our  nature  scarce  leads 
to  any  further  resentment,  when  once  the  injurious 
seems  to  us  fully  seized  with  remorse,  so  that  we  fear 
no  further  evils  from  him,  or  when  all  his  power  is  gone. 
Who  would  not  prefer  safety  from  injury,  to  the  having 
revenged  an  injury  ?  Who  can  dwell  upon  a  scene  of 
tortures  though  practiced  on  the  vilest  wretch,  or  can 
delight  either  in  the  sight  or  description  of  vengeance 
prolonged  beyond  all  necessity  of  self-defence  or  public 
interest?  ' 'The  pleasure  of  revenge,  then,  bears  the 
same  comparison  in  the  pleasures  of  humanity  and  vir- 
tue, as  the  slaking  of  the  incessant  burning  thirst  of 
a  fever,  does  to  the  natural  enjoyments  of  grateful  food 
in  health." 

The  pursuits  of  the  learned  have  often  as  much  folly 
in  them  as  any  other,  when  studies  are  not  valued  accord- 
ing to  their  use  in  life,  or  their  real  pleasures,  but  for 
their  difficulty  and  obscurity,  and  consequently  their 
rarity  and  distinction.  Nay,  an  abuse  may  be  made  of 
the  most  noble  and  manly  studies,  even  of  morals,  politics, 
and  religion  itself,  if  our  admiration  and  desire  termin- 
ate upon  the  knowledge  itself  and  not  upon  the  posses- 
sion of  the  dispositions  and  affections,  which  should  be 
inculcated  in  these  studies.  No  part  of  knowledge  in- 
deed can  be  called  entirely  useless;  abstract  mathematics, 
mythology,  painting,  music,  architecture  have  their  own 
pleasures,  the  only  fault  lies  in  letting  any  of  those  infe- 
rior tastes  engross  the  whole  man  to  the  exclusion  of 
other  pursuits  of  virtue  and  humanity. 


THE  PASSIONS  AND  AFFECTIONS. 


245 


In  governing  our  moral  sense  and  desires  of  virtue, 
nothing  is  more  necessary  than  to  study  the  nature  and 
tendency  of  human  actions,  and  to  extend  our  views  to 
the  whole  species  and  to  all  sensitive  natures,  as  far  as: 
they  can  be  affected  by  our  conduct.  Our  moral  sense 
thus  regulated  and  constantly  followed  in  our  actions, 
may  be  the  most  constant  source  of  the  most  stable  pleas- 
ure, and  also,  the  most  probable  means  of  obtaining  the 
pleasures  of  honor.  The  public  good  can  never  be  opposed 
to  private  virtue,  and  had  all  men  true  opinions,  honor 
could  only  be  obtained  by  virtue  or  serving  the  public. 

Moral  Good  and  Evil.— The  universal  benevolence 
towards  all  men,  we  may  compare  to  that  principle  of 
gravitation,  which,  perhaps,  extends  to  all  bodies  in  the 
universe,  buHncreases  as  the  distance  is  diminished,  and 
is  strongest  when:  bodies  come  to  tonoh  each  other.  Now 
this  increase  upon  nearer  approach,  is  as  necessary  as 
that  there  should  be  any  attraction  at  all.  for  a  general 
attraction  equal  in  all  distances,  would  by  the  contrariety 
of  such  multitudes  of  equal  forces,  put  an  end  to  all  reg- 
ularity of  motion  and  perhaps  stop  it  altogether.  Besides 
this  general  attraction,  the  learned  in  these  subjects  show 
us  a  great  many  other  attractions  among  several  sorts  of 
bodies  answering  to  some  particular  sorts  of  passions, 
from  some  special  causes.  And  that  attraction  or  force 
by  which  the  parts  of  each  body  cohere-,  may  represent 
the  self  love  of  each  individual. 

Every  moral  agent  justly  considers  himself  as  £  pert 
of  this  rational  system  which  may  be  useful  to  the  whole  \ 
so  that  he  may  be.  in  part*  an  object  of  his  own  unitfgf* 
sal  benevolence;  and  the  preservation  of  the  system  re- 
quires every  one  to  be  innocently  solicitious  about  himself. 
Benevolence  denotes  the  internal  spring  of  virtue;  it  may 
mean  a  calm  extensive  affection  or  good-will  towards  all 
beings  capable  of  happiness  or  misery;  or  towards  smaller 
systems,  or  to  individuals,  as  patriotism  and  friendship; 
or  the  several  kinds  of  particular  passions  as  love,  pity, 
sympathy,  and  congratulation. 

The  morality  of  every  agent  consists  of  a  compound 
proportion  of  his  benevolence  and  abilities,  and  his  good- 
ness depends  on  these  two  jointly.    In  different  agents, 


246 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


their  abilities  being  equal,  the  quantity  of  good  is  pro- 
portioned to  the  goodness  of  temper  or  benevolence;  and 
the  goodness  of  temper  being  equal,  the  quantity  of  good 
is  as  the  abilities.  Virtue,  or  goodness  of  temper,  is 
(other  things  being  equal),  directly  as  the  amount  of  good, 
and  inversely  as  the  abilities;  for  where  the  ability  is  the 
greatest,  there  is  evidently  less  virtue  in  the  same  amount 
of  good.  In  most  actions,  self-love  is  another  force, 
sometimes  conspiring  with,  and  sometimes  opposing  be- 
nevolence. Perfection  of  goodness  or  virtue  is  when  the 
amount  of  good  fully  equals  the  abilities. — Francis  Hutch- 
eson.  - 


LOVE  AND  HATRED. 

These  two  affections  arise,  immediately  and  inevitably, 
from  our  perpetual  solicitude  to  enjoy  the  existence  we 
possess.  They  are  coeval  with  our  ideas  of  good  and 
evil.  They  are  experienced  by  every  one,  in  every  situ- 
ation, and  in  every  period  of  life.  They  are  inspired  by 
every  object  which  possesses  some  peculiarity >  or  is  ap- 
parently endowed  with  some  quality,  of  a  beneficial  or  a 
pernicious  tendency;  that  is,  by  whatever  is  able,  ac- 
cording to  our  conceptions,  to  promote  or  impede  enjoy- 
ment or  happiness;  from  the  smallest  gratification  up  to 
the  most  exalted  felicity;  from  the  smallest-discomfiture, 
to  the  depth  of  misery.  They  are  also  the  parents  of 
every  other  passion  and  affection. 

Love  may  be  considered  either  as  a  principle  or  as  an 
affection.  As  a  principle,  it  may  be  defined  an  invaria- 
ble preference  of  good;  an  M universal  and  permanent 
attachment  to  wellbeing  or  happiness. "  In  this  point  of 
view,  the  love  of  good,  and  solicitude  to  procure  it,  is 
not  only  the  ruling  principle  of  every  sentient  being,  but 
it  meets  with  the  full  approbation  of  every  rational  be- 
ing. For  nothing  can  excel  that  which  is  good,  and 
nothing  can  be  valuable,  but  as  it  has  a  tendency  to  pro- 
mote it.  Hence  when  we  speak  of  love  abstractedly,  we 
call  it  the  principle  of  love;  and  when  this  principle  is 
directed  towards  any  particular  object  it  becomes  an  af- 


THE  AFFECTIONS  AND  PASSIONS. 


217 


fection;  when  the  affection  of  love  immediately  relates 
to  ourselves  personally,  it  is  called  self-love;  and  it  marks 
the  peculiar  concern  and  solicitude  we  entertain  of  our 
own  interest,  prosperity,  or  enjoyment.  Self  affection, 
when*it  does  not  interfere  with  the  claims  of  others,  is 
not  only  an  innocent  affection,  but  it  manifests  the  wis- 
dom and  benevolence  of  the  great  source  of  good.  By 
rendering  every  being  active  in  the  pursuit  of  his  own 
happiness,  the  greatest  quantity  of  general  good  is  most 
effectually  secured.  As  the  largest  communities  consist 
of  individuals,  were  each  individual  to  seek  his  own 
welfare,  without  prejudice  to  his  neighbor,  the  individual 
stock  of  each  would  render  happiness  universal. 

When  our  love  or  desire  of  good  goes  forth  to  others, 
it  is  termed  good  will,  or  benevolence.  This  usually  ope- 
rates with  various  degrees  of  force,  according  to  our 
various  degrees  of  intimacy. 

When  love  extends  to  the  whole  human  race,  it  is 
termed  philanthropy;  a  principle  which  comprehends  the 
whole  circle  of  social  and  moral  virtues.  Considering 
every  man  as  his  neighbor,  and  loving  his  neighbor  as 
truly  and  invariably  as4he  loves  himself,  the  philanthro- 
pist can  not  be  unjust  or  ungenerous. 

In  its  utmost  extent,  the  love  of  benevolence  embraces 
all  beings  capable  of  enjoying  any  portion  of  good;  and 
thus  it  becomes  universal  benevolence,  which  manifests 
itself  by  being  pleased  with  the  share  of  good  every 
creature  enjoys;  in  a  disposition  to  increase  it ;  in  feel- 
ing an  uneasiness  at  their  sufferings';  and  in  the  abhor- 
rence of  cruelty  under  every  disguise,  or  pretext. 

Hatred  expresses  the  manner  in  which  we  are  affected, 
by  our  perception  of  whatever  we  suppose  to  be  evil. 
Notwithstanding  the  excesses  and  exaggerations  of  hatred 
and  malevolence,  they  can  not  possibly  be  so  extensive 
in  their  operations  as  the  principle  of  love.  The  affec- 
tion of  hatred  has  particular  and  partial  evils  alone  for 
its  objects,  while  the  principle  of  love  may  embrace  the 
universe.  Happiness  appears  to  be  our  birthright,  of 
which  all  the  painful  sensations  raised  by  hatred,  are  the 
professed  guardians.  The  wish  for  happiness  is  perpetual 
and  unlimited,  while  our  evil  affections  expire  with  the 


248 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


causes  which  gave  them  existence.  Nor  can  malevolence 
extend  itself  to  every  individual  in  the  creation,  in  a 
manner  similar  to  the  contrary  virtue.  That  happy 
cultivation  of  our  nature  which  inspires  a  benevolence 
toward  all  animated  beings,  can  not  possibly  have  a  per- 
fect contrast,  or  complete  parallel,  in  the  most  unculti- 
vated and  brutalized.  This  would  constitute  a  ferocity 
of  character  which  can  scarcely  be  found  in  the  most 
insane.  When  tyrants,  cruel  and  ferocious,  are  diffusing 
misery,  in  the  wantonness  of  their  power,  their  conduct 
does  not  proceed  from  an  abstract  principle  of  universal 
hatred;  but  from  some  low  polic}r  of  self  defence;  from 
an  infernal  spirit  of  revenge  for  supposed  injuries;  from 
inordinate  self  love,  which  creates  an  insensibility  to 
human  woes;  from  pride,  vanity,  and  excessive  igno- 
rance, which  induce  men  to  imagine  that  they  shall  be 
revered  as  deities,  because  they  imitate  the  destructive 
thunder  of  heaven;  and  to  dream  that  their  favorite  idol, 
power,  can  only  be  made  known  and  established,  by  deeds 
which  excite  consternation  and  horror! 

Indeed  the  affection  of  hatred  is  of  so  unpleasant  a 
nature,  that  the  being  who  coujd  hate  every  thing  would 
be  his  own  tormentor.  The  sole  pleasure'of  which  ma- 
levolence is  capable,  proceeds  from  the  gratification  of 
revenge;  which  can  only  be  directed  against  particular 
objects.  Nor  is  it  merely  bounded;  it  is  irritating,  un- 
satisfactory, and  punished  by  the  sacrifice  of  all  the  en- 
joyments which  flow  from  the  contrary  disposition. 

It  will  not  be  necessary,  in  the  process  of  our  investi- 
gation, to  have  the  distinction  between  the  rational  and 
irrational  creation,  always  in  our  view.  The  disposi- 
tions towards  each  are  similar;  though  rational  beings, 
from  their  superior  importance,  are  the  most  interesting, 
and  the  diversity  of  their  situations  admits  of  a  greater 
variety  of  correspondent  affections.  Both  may  be  com- 
prehended under  the  title  of  general  benevolence. 

It  may  be  considered  as  an  inward  feeling,  which  is 
excited  by  the  particular  and  extraordinary  situation  of 
another;  or  which  harmonizes  with  the  condition  and 
feelings  of  its  object.  Sympathy  indicates  a  mind  at- 
tuned to  correspondent  vibrations,  whether  they  be  of  a 


THE  AFFECTIONS  AND  PASSIONS. 


249 


pleasing  or  displeasing  kind.  Consequently  it  operates 
with  various  degrees  of  strength,  according  to  the  de- 
grees of  danger  to  which  its  objects  may  be  disposed;  to 
the  misery  they  suffer,  and  the  aggravating  circumstances 
attending;  to  the  good  fortune  with  which  they  are  sur- 
prised and  delighted ;  and  to  their  capacities  of  receiving 
good.  It  also  disposes  the  mind  to  accommodate  itself 
to  the  tastes,  dispositions,  and  manners  of  others,  in  the 
social  intercourses  of  life.  The  impulse  of  sympathy 
renders  the  generous  mind  completely  courageous.  It  is 
a  stranger  to  personal  fear;  all  its  anxieties  are  trans- 
ferred to  the  perils  of  the  object. 

Rancor  is  that  degree  of  malice  which  preys  upon  the 
possessor.  His  heart  is  torn  with  vexation  when  he 
contemplates  the  happiness  of  another,  or  when  he  is 
foiled  in  his  evil  purposes  towards  him. 

A  cruel  disposition  respects  the  particular  temper 
manifested  in  the  contemplation  or  infliction  of  abso- 
lute misery.  It  has  various  degrees.  Sometimes  it 
is  expressive  of  that  hardness  of  heart,  which  is  able  to 
look  upon  extreme  distress  without  any  sensation  of  hu- 
manity. Sometimes  cruelty  is  indicated  by  the  voluntary 
and  unnecessary  infliction  of  misery;  and  in  its  highest 
state  it  rejoices  and  triumphs  in  the  diffusion  of  horrors; 
in  the  wanton  shedding  of  blood,  and  spreading  desola- 
tion. It  is  gratified  with  the  convulsions  of  agony ;  groans 
and  lamentations  are  music  in  its  ears. 

This  fiend-like  temper  may  proceed  from  a  natural  in- 
sensibility, strengthened  by  a  perverse  education;  from 
envy;  from  a  spirit  of  revenge  for  supposed  injuries; 
from  cowardice,  resenting  the  panic  it  feels;  or  from  in- 
satiable ambition,  which  wades  through  torrents  of  blood, 
and  renders  the  mangled  bodies  of  the  slain  stepping- 
stones  to  that  preeminence  of  station  after  which  it 
aspires.  , 

Horror  rouses  within  us  such  a  degree  of  resentment 
as  becomes  the  severest  reproof  to  the  enormities  ac 
which  it  shudders;  and  when  excited  by  deeds  of  cruelty 
it  calls  up  a  laudable  spirit  of  revenge;  and  it  renders 
the  mildest  and  meekest  dispositions  solicitous  for  a 
power  of  retaliation, 


250 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


Indignation  is  always  directed  against  the  violation  of 
some  sacred  law,  which  is  respected  by  every  man  who 
is  not  destitute  of  virtue  and  honor. 

Contempt  is  the  punishment  directed  against  that  mean- 
ness of  character,  and  perverseness  of  conduct,  which 
sink  a  man  below  the  level  of  social  intercourse,  and 
disqualify  him  for  decent  and  respectable  society. 

The  grand  distinctions  in  moral  conduct  are  indicated 
by  the  terms  virtue  and  vice.  Virtue  requires  repentance, 
as  the  medium  to  restoration  to  order  and  to  duty;  for 
this  purpose  it  permits  remorse,  but  never  enjoins  des- 
pair. It  allows  of  fear  as  far  as  this  excites  to  caution; 
and  even  of  terror,  when  the  mind  has  been  surprised  by 
something  tremendous;  but  habitual  fear  it  terms  cow- 
ardice, and  to  terror  perpetually  excited  by  small  causes, 
it  gives  the  appellation  of  pusillanimity.  It  approves  of 
the  emulation  which  animates  to  worthy  deeds,  or  to  ad- 
vancement in  every  species  of  excellence;  nor  does  it 
forbid  the  ambition  which  is  productive  of  general  good; 
but  it  execrates  the  wretch  who  wades  through  seas  of 
blood,  and  tramples  upon  the  slain,  to  rise  above  those 
whom  his  baneful  sword  has  spared.  Envy,  which  is 
the  antipode  of  benevolence,  virtue  knows  not:  and 
though  it  admits  of  jealous  alarms  upon  great  occasions, 
and  prompted  by  strong  presumptive  evidence,  yet  it  is 
a  stranger  to  unauthorized  suspicions.  It  permits  the 
moderate  desire  of  wealth,  as  the  means  both  of  comfort 
and  usefulness;  but  it  lays  rapaciousness  and  avarice 
under  the  severest  interdict.  It  allows  of  self-defence, 
and  we  are  occasionally  inspired  with  strength  and  cour- 
age for  the  purpose;  but  it  disdains  the  use  of  treacher- 
ous means  of  security,  and  the  acts  of  cruelty  which 
characterize  the  barbarian  and  the  coward. 

Treachery  and  cruelty  are  more  detestable  than  com- 
mon acts  of  injustice,  because  the  one  is  a  grosser  abuse 
of  that  confidence  without  which  society  can  not  subsist; 
and  the  other  manifests  not  only  inordinate  self-love,  but 
the  want  of  that  natural  affection  which  is  due  to  every 
being;  substituting  the  affection  of  hatred  in  its  place. 

Both  virtue  and  vice  are  the  offsprings  of  passions  and 
affections  in  themselves  innocent.    The  natural  desires 


THE  AFFECTIONS  AND  PASSIONS. 


251 


and  affections  implanted  in  our  very  make,  are  void  of 
guilt.  Respecting  these,  virtue  simply  requires  a  proper 
choice,  innocent  pursuits,  and  moderation  in  our  enjoy- 
ments. Vice  consists  in  an  improper,  or  forbidden  choice, 
in  the  excess  or  perversion  of  the  natural  propensity  of 
our  natures.  Lawless  ambition  is  the  excess  of  a  desire 
to  distinguish  ourselves,  which,  under  certain  restric- 
tions, is  a  blameless  incentive  to  useful  actions.  As 
every  species  of  debauchery  consists  in  the  irregular  in- 
dulgence of  the  appetites,  in  themselves  natural  and 
innocent,  thus  are  the  most  disorderly  and  malevolent 
affections  the  abuse  of  some  affections,  which,  in  certain 
circumstances,  may  be  allowable  and  beneficial. 

Love,  joy,  ecstacy,  complacency,  satisfaction,  content- 
ment, lively  hope,  these  are  decidedly  the  sources  of 
present  enjoyment.  The  social  affections  of  benevolence, 
sympathy,  compassion,  and  mercy,  are  also  other  ingre- 
dients of  happiness,  from  a  less  selfish  and  more  refined 
source  than  the  preceding.  A  steady,  uniform  disposi- 
tion manifested  by  incessant  endeavors  to  promote  hap- 
piness, is  invariably  rewarded  with  a  large  portion  of  it. 
Benevolence  places  the  mind  at  a  remote  distance  from 
little  jealousies  and  envyings;  it  tempers  the  irritative 
nature  of  anger,  and  teaches  compassion  to  subdue  it. 
Through  benevolence,  the  good  enjoyed  by  another  be- 
comes our  own,  without  a  robbery  or  privation.  This 
divine  principle  harmonizes  the  mind  with  every  thing 
around,  and  feels  itself  pleasingly  connected  with  every 
living  being.  It  generates,  communicates  and  enjoys 
happiness.  When  benevolence  manifests  itself  by  sym- 
pathy, compassion,  and  mercy,  some  portion  of  uneasi- 
ness, it  is  acknowledged,  generally  accompanies  the 
sensation  congenial  to  its  nature;  but  the  exercise  of 
these  affections  communicates  a  pleasing  pain.  The  de- 
gree of  uneasiness  is  more  than  recompensed,  by  the 
satisfaction  enjoyed  from  the  relief  of  distress,  and  even 
from  the  consciousness  of  a  disposition  to  relieve.  There 
is  often  a  luxury  in  sympathetic  sorrow;  and  the  tear 
shed  over  distress  becomes  a  pearl  of  inestimable  price. 
Every  species  of  benevolence  possesses   the  quality 


252  SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 

which  our  great  dramatic  poet  has  ascribed  to  a  merciful 
disposition: 

"The  quality  of  mercy  is  twice  blessed; 

It  blesseth  him  that  gives  and  him  that  takes.11 

Treatise  on  the  Passions,  by  T.  Cogan. 


INGRATITUDE. 

Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind, 
Thou  art  not  so  unkind 

As  man's  ingratitude: 
Thy  tooth  is  not  so  keen, 
Because  thou  art  not  seen, 

Although  thy  breath  be  rude. 

Freeze,  freeze,  thou  bitter  sky, 
Thou  dost  not  bite  so  nigh, 

As  benefits  forgot, 
Though  thou  the  waters  warp, 
Thy  sting  is  not  so  sharp, 

As  friend  remembered  not. 

Shakspeare. 


LOVE. 

Ah  love!  dearest  hopes  to  inspire, 

Thou  banishest  wisdom  the  while, 
And  the  lips  of  the  nymph  I  admire, 

Seemed  forever  adorned  with,  a  smile. 
Alas!  from  the  day  that  we  met, 

What  hope  of  an  end  to  my  woes, 
When  I  can  not  endure  to  forget 

The  glance  that  undid  my  repose. 

Now  I  know  what  it  is  to  have  strove 
With  the  torture  of  doubt  and  desire, 

What  it  is  to  admire  and  to  love, 
And  to  leave  her  we  love  and  admire. 


LOVE. 


253 


I  prized  every  hour  that  went  by, 
Beyond  all  that  pleased  me  before, 

And  now  they  are  gone  and  I  sigh, 

And  I  grieve  that  I  prized  them  no  more. 

When  forced  the  fair  nymph  to  forego, 

What  anguish  I  felt  in  my  heart, 
Yet  I  thought — but  it  might  not  be  so, 

'Twas  with  pain  that  she  saw  me  depart. 
She  gazed  as  I  slowly  withdrew, 

My  path  I  could  hardly  discern, 
So  sweetly  she  bade  me  adieu — 

I  thought  that  she  bade  me  return. 

I  have  found  out  a  gift  for  my  fair, 

I  have  found  where  the  wood  pigeons  breed; 
But  let  me  that  plunder  forbear, 

She  will  say  'twas  a  barbarous  deed! 
For  he  ne'er  could  be  true,  she  averred, 

Who  could  rob  a  poor  bird  of  its  young; 
And  I  loved  her  the  more  when  I  heard 

Such  tenderness  fall  from  her  tongue. 

I  have  heard  her  with  sweetness  unfold  j 

How  that  pity  was  due  to  a  dove;  I 
That  it  ever  attended  the  bold,  I 

And  she  called  it  the  sister  of  love. 
But  her  words  such  a  pleasure  convey, 

And  her  goodness  so  much  I  adore, 
Let  her  speak,  and  whatever  she  say, 

Methinks  I  should  love  her  the  more. 

Yet  my  song  shall  resound  through  the  grove 

With  the  same  sad  complaint  it  begun, 
How  she  smiled  and  I  could  not  but  love, 

Was  faithless,  and  I  am  undone. 
She  is  faithless  and  I  am  undone; 

Ye  that  list  to  the  woes  I  endure, 
Let  reason  instruct  you  to  shun 

What  it  can  not  instruct  you  to  cure. 

Shemtone. 

23 


254 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


Bounteous  imagination!  be  still  my  guide,  my  compan- 
ion, my  friend.  Thy  sensibility  may  sometimes  blacken 
the  storm,  or  give  added  strength  to  the  blow  of  afflic- 
tion, but  thou  bestowest  in  counterpoise  a  thousand 
beams  of  radiant  joy,  which  are  ever  playing  round  the 
minds  thou  inhabitest.  They  feel  them  reflected  from 
each  delicacy  of  sentiment,  each  act  of  humanity,  each 
triumph  of  honor;  every  thing  from  the  summit  of  the 
mountain  to  the  depth  of  the  vale  lives  and  blossoms  for 
them;  the  immense  round  of  creation  is  theirs. — Sketches 
of  Nature  by  George  Keate. 


HIGHLAND  MARY. 


ow  sweetly  bloomed  the  gay,  green  birk, 
How  rich  the  hawthorn  blossom, 


As  underneath  their  fragrant  shade, 

I  clasped  her  to  my  bosom. 
The  golden  hours  on  angels'  wings 

"Flew  o'er  me  and  my  deary — 
For  dear  to  me  as  light  and  life 

Was  my  sweet  Highland  Mary. 

With  many  a  vow  and  locked  embrace, 

Our  parting  was  full  tender, 
And  pledging  oft  to  meet  again 

We  tore  ourselves  asunder. 
But  oh!  fell  death's  untimely  frost, 

That  nipped  my  flower  so  early; 
Now  green 's  the  sod,  and  cold 's  the  clay, 

That  wraps  my  Highland  Mary! 

Oh!  pale,  pale  now  those  rosy  lips, 

I  oft  have  kissed  so  fondly! 
And  closed  for  aye  the  sparkling  glance 

That  dwelt  on  me  so  kindly! 
And  mouldering  now  in  silent  dust, 

The  heart  that  loved  me  dearly! 
But  still  within  my  bosom's  core 

Shall  dwell  my  Highland  Mary! — Burns. 


(  255  ) 


WOMAN. 

Through  many  a  land  and  clime  a  ranger, 
With  toilsome  steps  I've  held  my  way, 

A  lonely  unprotected  stranger, 
To  all  the  stranger's  ills  a  prey. 

While  steering  thus  my  course  precarious, 

My  fortune  still  has  been  to  find 
Men's  hearts  and  dispositions  various, 

But  gentle  women,  ever  kind. 

Alive  to  every  tender  feeling, 

To  deeds  of  mercy  ever  prone; 
The  wounds  of  pain  and  sorrow  healing, 

With  soft  compassion's  sweetest  tone. 

No  proud  delay,  no  dark  suspicion 
Stints  the  free  bounty  of  their  heart: 

They  turn  not  from  the  sad  petition, 
But  cheerful  aid  at  once  impart. 

Formed  in  benevolence  of  nature, 

Obliging,  modest,  gay  and  mild, 
Woman's  the  same  endearing  creature, 

In  courtly  town  and  savage  wild. 

When  parched  with  thirst,  with  hunger  wasted, 
Her  friendly  hand  refreshment  gave: 

How  sweet  the  coarsest  food  has  tasted, 
What  cordial  in  the  simple  wave! 

Her  courteous  looks,  her  words  caressing, 
Shed  comfort  on  the  fainting  soul; 

Woman's  the  stranger's  general  blessing 
From  sultry  India  to  the  pole! — Ledyard. 


<  256) 


THE  TEAR. 

Oh!  that  the  chemist's  magic  art 

Could  chrystalize  this  sacred  treasure! 

Long  should  it  glitter  near  my  heart, 
A  secret  source  of  pensive  pleasure. 

The  little  brilliant,  ere  it  fell, 

Its  lustre  caught  from  Chloe's  eye; 

Then,  trembling,  left  its  coral  cell — 
The  spring  of  sensibility! 

Sweet  drop  of  pure  and  pearly  light! 

In  thee  the  rays  of  virtue  shine; 
More  calmly  clear,  more  mildly  bright, 

Than  any  gem  that  gilds  the  mine. 

Benign  restorer  of  the  soul! 

Who  ever  flyest  to  bring  relief, 
When  first  we  feel  the  rude  control 

Of  love  or  pity,  joy  or  grief. 

The  sage's  and  the  poet's  theme, 

In  every  clime,  in  every  age; 
Thou  charm'st  in  fancy's  idle  dream, 

In  reason's  philosophic  page. 

That  very  law*  which  moulds  a  tear, 
And  bids  it  trickle  from  its  source, 

That  law  preserves  the  earth  a  sphere, 
And  guides  the  planets  in  their  course ! 

Samuel  Rogers. 


THE  STATE  OF  PRISONS. 

Parum  est  coercere  improbos  poena,  nisi  probos  efficias  disciplina. 
It  avails  little  to  restrain  the  bad  by  punishment,  unless  you  render 
them  good  by  instruction. 

Debtors  and  felons,  as  well  as  hostile  foreigners,  are 
men,  and  by  men  ought  to  be  treated  as  men.  Those 
who,  when  told  of  the  misery  of  those  in  prison,  reply, 

*The  law  of  gravitation. 


THE  STATE  OF  PRISONS, 


25f 


"let  them  take  care  then  to  keep  out,"  forget  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  human  affairs,  and  the  unexpected  changes  to 
which  all  men  are  liable,  so  that  the  affluent  may  in  time' 
become  indigent,  debtors,  and  prisoners.    In  a  well  regu- 
lated prison,  the  first  care  is  to  find  a  good  man  for  a 
jailor;  one  that  is  honest,  active,  sober  and  humane. 
The  charge  is  too  important  to  be  left  wholly  to  a  jailor, 
paid  indeed  for  his  attendance,  but  often  tempted  by  his 
passions  or  interest  to  fail  in  his  duty.    County  prisons 
are  under  the  immediate  care  of  the  magistrates  or  sher- 
iffs, who  have  the  power  of  inspection.    The  inspector 
should  make  his  visit  once  a  week,  changing  his  days. 
He  should  see  that  every  room  is  clean;  hear  the  com- 
plaints of  each  prisoner,  and  immediately  correct  what 
he  finds  manifestly  wrong.    A  good  jailor  would  be 
pleased  with  his  scrutiny — it  would  do  him  honor,  and 
confirm  him  in  his  station;  in  case  of  a  less  worthy  jailor, 
the  examination  is  more  needful,  that  he  may  be  repri- 
manded, and,  if  incorrigible,  discharged.    The  inspector" 
should  act  from  the  noble  motive  of  doing  justice  to  his 
prisoners  and  service  to  his  country.    Dr.  Young,  says, 
"If  half  the  misery  that  is  felt  by  some,  were  seen  by 
others,  it  would  shock  them  with  horror;"  and  Fenelon 
makes  this  delicate  remark:  4 4 The  prosperous  turn  away 
their  eyes  from  the  miserable,  not  through  insensibility, 
but  because  the  sight  is  an  interruption  to  their  gayety." 
Surely  the  magistrates  should  act  upon  the  more  righ- 
teous principle  of  duty.    Great  care  should  be  taken  to 
prevent  infection,  to  keep  the  rooms  clean  and  well  venti- 
lated; the  court  yard  should  have  a  pump  or  other  pro- 
vision for  water  in  plenty  for  the  prisoners,  who  should 
be  kept  at  work  ten  hours  a  day,  meal-times  included, 
and  permitted  to  walk  about  when  they  have  done  work- 
ing.   Adhere  to  strict  rules  of  sobriety  and  diligence,  in 
order  to  correct  their  faults  and  make  them,  for  the  future, 
useful  to  society.    Gentle  discipline  is  commonly  more 
efficacious  than  severity;  which  should  not  be  exercised 
but  on  such  as  will  not  be  amended  by  lenity.  These 
should  be  punished  by  solitary  confinement  on  bread  and 
water  for  a  time  proportioned  to  their  fault.  Endeavor 
to  persuade  the  offender  that  he  is  corrected  only  for  his 


258 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


own  good.  I  know  not  any  reason  why  a  house  of  cor- 
rection may  not  be  as  well  conducted  as  any  other  house 
with  an  equally  numerous  family.  Let  the  sober  and 
diligent  be  distinguished  by  some  preference  in  their  diet 
and  lodging,  or  by  shortening  their  term  of  confinement, 
and  giving  them  when  discharged  a  good  character.  The 
notion  that  convicts  are  ungovernable  is  certainly  errone- 
ous. Some  of  the  most  desperate  may  be  managed  with 
ease  to  yourself  and  advantage  to  them.  Many  of  them 
are  shrewd  and  sensible;  manage  them  with  calmness  yet 
with  steadiness;  show  them  that  you  have  humanity, 
that  you  aim  to  make  them  useful  members  of  society; 
let  them  know  the  rules  of  the  prison,  and  that  they  are 
not  defrauded  of  their  provisions  or  clothes  by  contrac- 
tors or  jailors.  Such  conduct  would  prevent  mutiny  in 
prisons  and  attempts  to  escape,  which  I  am  fully  per- 
suaded are  often  owing  to  prisoners  being  made  despe- 
rate, by  the  inhumanity  and  ill-usage  of  their  keepers. 
Henry  Fielding  remarks  that  "the  sufferings  of  the  poor 
are  indeed  less  observed  than  their  misdeeds;  not  from 
any  want  of  compassion,  but  because  they  are  less  known; 
and  this  is  the  true  reason  why  we  so  often  hear  them 
mentioned  with  abhorrence  and  so  seldom  with  pity." 
In  several  cantons  of  Switzerland  there  are  no  criminal 
prisoners,  the  principle  reason  of  it,  is,  the  great  care 
that  is  taken  to  give  children,  even  the  poorest,  a  moral 
and  religious  education ;  and  another  cause  is  the  lauda- 
ble policy  of  speedy  justice.  In  Scotland,  also,  where 
there  are  but  few  prisoners,  no 'parish  is  without  a  school, 
and  in  some  there  are  four  or  five.  Hugo  Arnot  remarks, 
"We  do  not  think  it  possible  that  a  nation  can  attain  to 
improvement  in  science,  to  refinement  of  taste  and  in 
manners,  without  at  the  same  time  acquiring  a  refine- 
ment in  their  ideas  of  justice,  and  feelings  of  humanity. 

John  Howard. 

And  no\^,  philanthropy,  thy  rays  divine 
Dart  round  the  globe,  from  Zembla  to  the  line: 
O'er  each  dark  prison  plays  the  cheering  light, 
Like  northern  lustres  o'er  this  vault  of  night. 
From  realm  to  realm,  with  cross  or  crescent  crowned, 
Where'er  mankind  and  misery  are  found, 


THE  STATE  OF  PRISONS. 


259 


O'er  burning  sands,  deep  waves,  or  wilds  of  snow, 

Thy  Howard,  journeying,  seeks  the  house  of  woe. 

Down  many  a  winding  step  to  dungeons  dank, 

Where  anguish  wails  aloud,  and  fetters  clank, 

To  caves  bestrewed  with  many  a  mouldering  bone, 

And  cells,  whose  echoes  only  learn  to  groan; 

Where  no  kind  bars  a  whispering  friend  disclose, 

No  sunbeam  enters,  and  no  zephyr  blows, 

He  treads  inemulous  of  fame  or  wealth, 

Profuse  of  toil  and  prodigal  of  health ; 

With  soft  assuasive  eloquence  expands 

Power's  rigid  heart,  and  opes  his  clenching  hands: 

Leads  stern-eyed  justice  to  the  dark  domains, 

If  not  to  sever,  to  relax  the  chains; 

Or  guides  awakened  mercy  through  the  gloom 

And  shows  the  prison,  sister  to  the  tomb! 

Gives  to  her  babes  the  self-devoted  wife, 

To  her  fond  husband  liberty  and  life! 

Wrenched  the  red  scourge  from  proud  oppression's  hands, 

And  broke,  cursed  slavery,  thy  iron  bands. 

E'en  now,  e'en  now,  on  yonder  western  shores 

Weeps  pale  despair,  and  writhing  anguish  roars; 

E'en  now  in  freedom's  groves  with  hideous  yell 

Fierce  slavery  stalks  and  slips  the  dogs  of  hell ; 

From  vale  to  vale  the  gathering  cries  rebound 

And  sable  millions  tremble  at  the  sound. 

Who  right  the  injured,  and  reward  the  brave, 

Stretch  your  strong  arm,  for  ye  have  power  to  save! 

Throned  in  the  vaulted  heart,  his  dread  resort, 

Inexorable  conscience  holds  his  court; 

With  still  small  voice  the  plots  of  guilt  alarms, 

Bares  his  masked  brow,  his  lifted  hand  disarms; 

But,  wrapped  in  night,  with  terrors  all  his  own, 

He  speaks  in  thunders  when  the  deed  is  done. 

Hear  him,  ye  senates!  hear  this  truth  sublime 

He  who  allows  oppression  shares  the  crime, — Darwin. 


(260) 


PITY. 

Our  sympathy  with  the  pleasures  and  pains  of  others, 
distinguishes  men  from  other  animals;  and  is  probably 
the  foundation  of  what  is  termed  our  moral  sense;  and 
the  source  of  all  our  virtues.  When  our  sympathy  with 
those  miseries  of  mankind,  which  we  can  not  alleviate, 
rises  to  excess,  the  mind  becomes  its  own  tormentor;  and 
we  add  to  the  aggregate  sum  of  human  misery,  which  we 
ought  to  labor  to  diminish.  Such  is  however  the  condi- 
tion of  mortality  that  the  first  law  of  nature  is,  "eat  or 
be  eaten."  We  can  not  long  exist  without  the  destruc- 
tion of  other  animal  or  vegetable  beings,  either  in  their 
mature  or  their  embryon  state,  unless  the  fruits  which 
surround  the  seeds  of  some  vegetables,  or  the  honey  stolen 
from  them  by  the  bee,  may  be  said  to  be  an  exception  to 
this  assertion.  (Bot.  Gar.  P.  I.  Cant.  1,  6.  278  Mte.) 
Hence  from  the  necessity  of  our  nature,  we  may  be  sup- 
posed to  have  a  right  to  kill  those  creatures  which  we 
want  to  eat,  or  which  want  to  eat  us.  But  to  destroy 
even  insects  wantonly  shows  an  unreflecting  mind  or  an 
unfeeling  heart. 

Nevertheless,  mankind  may  well  be  divided  into  the 
selfish  and  the  social;  that  is,  into  those  whose  pleasures 
arise  from  gratifying  their  appetites,  and  those  whose 
pleasures  arise  from  their  sympathizing  with  others. 
And  according  to  the  prevalence  of  these  opposing  pro- 
pensities, we  value  or  dislike  the  possessor  of  them. 

In  conducting  the  education  of  young  people,  it  is  a 
nice  matter  to  inspire  them  with  so  much  benevolent 
sympathy  or  compassion,  as  may  render  them  good  and 
amiable,  and  yet  not  so  much  as  to  make  them  unhappy 
at  the  sight  of  incurable  distress.  We  should  endeavor 
to  make  them  alive  to  sympathize  with  all  remediable 
evil,  and  at  the  same  time  to  arm  them  with  fortitude  to 
bear  the  sight  of  such  irremediable  evils,  as  the  accidents 
of  life  must  frequently  present  before  their  eyes, 

Darwin's  Zoonoonia, 

If  we  could  confine  ourselves  to  doing  no  harm  to  our 
fellow  creatures,  our  merit  would  be  merely  negative, 


PITY. 


which  would  scarcely  give  us  a  right  to  the  title  of  ra- 
tional creatures.  By  the  decrees  of  Providence  man  is 
essentially  an  active  and  sociable  being.  The  effects  of 
one  man's  activity  must  necessarily  affect  his  fellow-man; 
and  a  perfect  neutrality  they  can  not  preserve.  If  they 
do  not  benefit  they  must  needs  harm  each  other.  That 
we  ought  in  no  instance  to  do  any  act  of  injustice  or  un- 
righteousness, but  on  the  contrary,  that  it  is  our  indis- 
pensable duty  to  act  in  conformity  with  the  eternal  laws 
of  the  eternal  law-giver,  and  that  we  are  to  make  the  best 
use  of  our  capacity,  are  truths  too  well  established,  too 
deeply  engraven  on  our  hearts,  to  be  doubted  of  or  de- 
nied, even  by  the  most  daring  villain  who  vainly  strives 
to  stifle  the  reproaching  voice  of  conscience.  The  man 
of  refined  morality,  however,  neither  does  nor  can  stop 
here.  He  feels  it  to  be  his  duty,  not  only  to  be  good, 
but  also  to  inquire  in  what  situation  and  through  what 
means  he  may  be  able  to  produce  the  greatest  sum  of 
good  to  his  fellow  creatures.  These  principles  I  take  to 
be  self-evident. 

God,  the  common  father  of  all  beings,  has  committed 
many  inferior  animals  to  our  care,  formed  them  for  our 
benefit,  and  placed  them  under  our  authority;  but  this 
our  authority  should  be  exercised  not  only  with  tender- 
ness and  mercy,  but  also  conformably  to  the  laws  of  jus- 
tice and  gratitude.  But  to  what  horrid  deviations  from 
these  benevolent  institutions  of  our  common  creator  are 
we  daily  witnesses!  Look  at  the  merciless  wagoner, 
butcher,  and  sportsman,  showing  barbarous,  cool  and 
premeditated  cruelty!  Numberless  are  the  acts  of  wan- 
ton ferocity,  injustice  and  ingratitude,  that  we  see  com- 
mitted on  the  most  harmless  animals;  and  these  horrible 
atrocities  are  perpetrated  not  merely  with  impunity,  but 
without  censure. 

The  laws  of  self-defence  unquestionably  justify  us  in 
destroying  such  animals  as  would  destroy  us,  or  as  would 
injure  our  property  or  annoy  our  persons.  That  we  have 
a  right  to  deprive  of  life  those  animals  that  are  formed 
for  our  use,  propagated  by  our  culture,  and  fed  by  our 
care,  is  liable  to  no  doubt;  but  it  is  no  less  certain,  that 
this  disagreeable  office  should  always  be  performed  with 


262 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


tenderness  and  compassion;  and  that  no  circumstances 
ought  to  be  omitted,  which  can  render  those  executions 
as  quick  and  easy  as  possible. — Sketch  of  Education,  by 
Joseph  Neef. 


THE  LAWS  OF  NATURE. 

From  the  nature  of  man,  his  own  good  and  the  public 
good  are  inseparably  united  and  interwoven.  What 
other  inference  can  we  draw  from  the  great  disparity  be- 
tween the  brain  of  man  and  that  of  other  animals,  than 
that  man  is  so  formed  by  nature,  that  the  influence  of  the 
brain  on  the  government  of  his  actions  may  be  more  con- 
spicuous. But  this  can  not  otherwise  be  effected  than  by 
proposing  to  himself  the  greatest  end,  which  is  the  com- 
mon good  of  the.universe,  but  of  rational  beings  especially, 
and  in  the  best  manner  procuring  the  assistance  of  the 
best  means,  that  is,  by  procuring  to  himself  the  favor  of 
all  rational  agents  by  an  active  benevolence.  Certainly, 
a  more  simple  apparatus  of  organs  is  sufficient  for  the 
preservation  of  the  individual,  as  in  trees,  many  of  which 
flourish  longer  than  the  age  of  man,  and  is  also  sufficient 
for  the  propagation  of  its  species,  in  which  is  contained 
somewhat  of  the  common  good.  Therefore  so  great  a 
quantity  of  brain,  with  so  many  admirable  instruments 
thereto  pertaining  (such  as  the  organs  of  all  the  senses 
and  of  voluntary  motion),  must  be  designed  for  nobler 
uses.  In  some  birds  and  fishes,  the  bulk  and  weight  of 
the  brain  is  not  greater  than  that  of  the  eyes,  yet  even 
these  want  not  understanding  enough  to  live  peaceably 
with  their  own  species.  How  much  less  can  it  be  want- 
ing to  men  in  general  (consistently  with  their  happiness) 
who  have  the  largest  organs  for  acquiring  knowledge, 
especially  since  the  greatest  part  of  human  happiness 
consists  in  the  use  of  the  brain,  in  order  to  the  attain- 
ment of  the  greatest  good. — The  Rt.  Rev.  Richard  Cum- 
berland. 

God  wills  and  wishes  the  happiness  of  his  creatures. 
The  method  of  coming  at  the  will  of  God  concerning  any 


THE  LAWS  OF  NATURE. 


263 


action  by  the  light  of  nature,  is  to  inquire  into  the  ten- 
dency of  that  action  to  promote  or  to  diminish  the  general 
happiness.  Actions,  in  the  abstract,  are  right  or  wrong 
according  to  their  tendency,  the  agent  is  virtuous  or 
vicious  according  to  his  design.  It  is  the  utility  alone 
of  any  moral  rule  that  constitutes  the  obligation  of  it. 
Whatever  is  expedient  is  right.  But  then  it  must  be  ex- 
pedient on  the  whole,  at  the  long  run,  in  all  its  effects, 
collateral  and  remote,  as  well  as  in  those  that  are  imme- 
diate and  direct.  General  rules  are  necessary  to  every 
moral  government  whose  object  is  to  influence  the  con- 
duct of  reasonable  creatures.  The  general  consequences 
of  an  action  are  of  no  less  importance  than  the  particu- 
lar.— Paley. 

When  a  man  cares  not  what  sufferings  he  causes  to 
others,  and  especially  if  he  delights  in  other  men's  suf- 
ferings and  makes  them  his  sport,  this  is  Cruelty.  And 
not  to  be  affected  with  the  sufferings  of  people,  though 
they  proceed  not  from  us,  but  from  others,  or  from  causes 
in  which  we  are  not  concerned,  in  unmercifulness.  Mercy 
and  humanity  are  the  reverse  of  these. 

He,  who  religiously  regards  truth  and  nature,  will  not 
only  be  not  unjust,  but  (more)  not  unmerciful,  and  much 
less  cruel.  Not  to  be  affected  with  the  afflictions  of  others, 
so  far  as  we  know  them,  and  in  proportion  to  the  several 
degrees  of  them,  though  we  are  not  the  causes  of  them, 
is  the  same  as  to  consider  the  afflicted  as  persons  not  in 
affliction;  that  is,  as  being  not  what  they  are,  or  (which 
is  the  same)  as  being  what  they  are  not. 

One  can  scarcely  know  the  sufferings  of  another  with- 
out having  at  least  some  image  of  them  in  his  mind:  nor. 
can  one  have  these  images  without  being  conscious  of 
them,  and  as  it  were  feeling  them.  Next  to  suffering  it- 
self is  to  carry  the  representation  of  it  about  with  one. 
So  that  he  who  is  not  affected  with  the  calamities  of 
others,  so  far  as  they  fall  within  his  knowledge,  may  be 
said  to  know  and  not  to  know;  or  at  least  to  cancel  his 
knowledge,  and  contradict  his  own  conscience. 

There  is  something  in  human  nature  resulting  from  our 
very  make  and  constitution,  while  it  retains  its  genuine 
form,  and  is  not  altered  by  vicious  habits;  not  perverted 


264 


SPIRIT  OF  HtAlANITY. 


by  transports  of  revenge  of  fury,  by  ambition,  company, 
or  false  philosophy;  nor  oppressed  by  stupidity  and  neg- 
lecting to  observe  what  happens  to  others;  I  say  there  is 
something  which  renders  us  obnoxious  to  the  pains  of 
others,  causes  us  to  sympathize  with  them,  and  almost 
comprehends  us  in  their  case.  It  is  grevious  to  see  or 
hear  (and  almost  to  hear  of)  any  man,  or  even  any  ani- 
mal whatever  in  torment.  This  compassion  appears 
eminently  in  them,  who  upon  other  accounts  are  justly 
reckoned  among  the  best  of  men :  in  some  degree  it  ap- 
pears in  almost  all;  nay,  even  sometimes,  when  they 
more  coolly  attend  to  things,  in  those  hardened  and 
execrable  monsters  of  cruelty  themselves,  who  seem  just 
to  retain  only  the  least  possible  tincture  of  humanity. 
The  Phersean  tyrant  [Alexander]  who  had  never  wept 
over  any  of  those  murders  he  had  caused  among  his  own 
citizens,  wept  when  he  saw  a  tragedy  but  acted  in  the 
theater:  the  reason  was,  his  attention  was  caught  here, 
and  he  more  observed  the  sufferings  of  Hecuba  and  Andro- 
mache, than  ever  he  had  those  of  the  Pherseans;  and 
more  impartially,  being  no  otherwise  concerned  in  them 
but  as  a  common  spectator.  Upon  this  occasion  the  prin- 
ciple of  compassion,  implanted  in  human  nature,  ap- 
peared, overcame  his  habits  of  cruelty,  broke  through 
his  petrifaction,  and  would  show  that  it  could  not  be  to- 
tally eradicated.  It  is  therefore  according  to  nature  to  be 
affected  with  the  sufferings  of  other  people:  and  the  con- 
trary is  inhuman  and  unnatural. 

Such  are  the  circumstances  of  mankind,  that  we  can 
not  (or  but  very  few  of  us,  God  knows)  make  our  way 
through  this  world  without  encountering  dangers  and  suf- 
fering many  evils :  and  therefore  since  it  is  for  the  good 
of  such  as  are  so  exposed,  or  actually  smarting  under 
pain  or  trouble,  to  receive  comfort  and  assistance  from 
others,  without  which  they  must  commonly  continue  to 
be  miserable,  or  perish,  it  is  for  the  common  good  and 
welfare  of  the  majority  at  least  of  mankind,  that  they 
should  compassionate  and  help  each  other.  To  do  the 
contrary  must  therefore  be  contrary  to  nature,  and  wrong. 
And  besides,  it  is  by  one's  behavior  and  actions  to  affirm, 
that  the  circumstances  of  men  in  this  world  are  not  what 


THE  LAWS  OF  NATURE. 


265 


they  are;  or  that  peace,  and  health,  and  happiness,  and 
the  like,  are  not  what  they  are. 

Let  a  man  substitute  himself  in  the  room  of  some  poor 
creature  dejected  with  invincible  poverty,  distracted  with 
difficulties,  or  groaning  under  the  pangs  of  some  disease, 
or  the  anguish  of  some  hurt  or  wound,  and  without  help 
abandoned  to  want  and  pain.  In  this  distress  what  re- 
flections can  he  imagine  he  should  have,  if  he  found  that 
every  body  neglected  him,  no  body  so  much  as  pitying 
him,  or  vouchsafing  to  take  notice  of  his  calamitous  and 
sad  condition  ?  It  is  certain,  that  what  it  would  be  rea- 
sonable or  unreasonable  for  others  to  do  in  respect  of 
him,  he  must  allow  to  be  reasonable  or  unreasonable  for 
him  to  do  in  respect  of  them,  or  deny  a  manifest  truth. 

If  unmercifulness,  as  before  defined,  be  wrong,  no  time 
need  to  be  spent  in  proving  that  cruelty  is  so.  For  all 
that  is  culpable  in  unmercifulness  is  contained  in  cruelty, 
with  additions  and  aggravations.  Cruelty  not  only  de- 
nies due  regard  to  the  sufferings  of  others,  but  causes 
them;  or  perhaps  delights  in  them,  and  (which  is  the 
most  insolent  and  cruel  of  all  cruelties)  makes  them  a 
jest  and  subject  of  raillery.  If  the  one  be  a  defect  of 
humanity,  the  other  is  diametrically  opposite  to  it.  If 
the  one  does  no  good,  the  other  does  much  evil.  And  no 
man.  how  cruel  soever  in  reality  he  was,  has  ever  liked 
to  be  reckoned  a  cruel  man:  such  a  confession  of  guilt 
does  nature  extort;  so  universally  doth  it  reject,  condemn 
and  abhor  this  character. 

Hence  may  be  deducted  the  heinousness  of  all  such 
crimes  as  murder,  or  even  hurting  the  person  of  another 
any  how,  when  our  own  necessary  defence  does  not  re- 
quire it  (it  being  not  possible,  that  any  thing  should  be 
more  his,  than  his  own  person,  life  and  limbs);  robbing, 
stealing,  cheating,  betraying,  defamation,  detraction, 
adultery,  &c,  with  all  the  approaches  and  tendencies  to 
them.  For  these  are  not  only  comprised  within  the  defi- 
nition of  injustice,  and  are  therefore  violations  of  it;  but 
commonly,  and  most  of  them  always,  come  also  within 
the  description  of  cruelty. 

Bodily  inclinations  and  passions  when  they  observe 
their  due  subordination  to  reason  are  of  admirable  use  in 
24 


266 


SPIRIT   OF  HUMANITY. 


life,  and  tend  many  times  to  noble  ends.  So  far  are  they, 
if  rightly  managed,  from  being  mere  infirmities.  And 
certainly  the  'philosopher  who  pretends  to  absolute  apathy 
maims  nature  and  sets  up  for  a  half-man  or  J  knotv  not 
tchat.  When  the  stoics  say  that  a  wise  man  may  relieve 
one  who  wants  his  help  without  pitying  him;  I  own  in- 
deed he  may,  but  I  very  much  doubt  whether  he  would. 
If  he  had  not  some  compassion,  and  in  some  measure  felt 
the  ails  or  wants  of  the  other,  I  scarce  know  how  he 
should  come  to  take  him  for  an  object  of  his  charity. 
Man  must  labor  to  improve  his  rational  faculties  by  such 
means  as  are  (fairly)  practicable  by  him,  and  consistent 
with  his  circumstances.  If  it  be  a  disadvantage  to  be 
obnoxious  to  error  and  act  in  the  dark,  it  is  an  advantage 
to  know  such  truths  as  may  prevent  this;  if  so,  it  is  a 
greater  advantage  to  know  or  to  be  capable  of  knowing 
more  such  truths,  and  then  again  not  to  endeavor  to  im- 
prove those  faculties  by  which  these  truths  are  appre- 
hended, is  to  shut  them  out  as  being  not  what  are.  No 
rational  animal  can  act  according  to  truth,  the  true  na- 
ture of  himself,  and  the  idea  of  a  crime,  if  he  doth  not 
endeavor  not  to  commit  it,  and  when  it  is  committed  to 
repair  it  if  he  can,  or  at  least  show  himself  to  be  peni- 
tent.— Nature  Delineated,  by  William  Wollaston. 

The  general  object  of  education  is  not  obtained;  men 
are  not  rendered  intelligent  and  virtuous,  because  chil- 
dren are  commanded,  not  instructed;  and  are  obliged  to 
learn  maxims,  not  to  acquire  information  or  practice 
duties.  The  body  acquires  the  use  of  its  powers,  not 
only  by  maxims  and  doctrines,  but  by  trial  and  experi- 
ment; and  the  mind  must  obtain  the  use  of  its  faculties, 
the  right  direction  and  employment  of  its  passions,  in 
which  virtue  and  happiness  consist,  by  repeated  trials 
and  experiments,  not  by  doctrines  and  commands.  The 
virtues  may  be  produced  by  attending  to  the  general, 
though  silent  instructions  of  nature.  Do  you  wish  to 
induce  a  child  to  love  his  brothers  and  sisters?  Do  not 
enjoin  it  [merely]  as  a  duty;  for  injunction  can  not  effect, 
but  many  obstruct  your  purpose.  Do  you  wish  to  render 
him  susceptible  of  the  great  passions  of  love,  friendship, 
patriotism,  and  universal  benevolence  ?    Do  not  [merely] 


THE  LAWS  OP  NATURE. 


267 


inflame  or  enfeeble  his  opening  mind  with  the  glowing 
strains  of  ancient  or  modern  eloquence  on  these  subjects: 
train  him  in  the  actual  exercise  and  art  of  sacrificing 
present  gratifications  to  those  at  a  little  distance;  and 
teach  him,  by  repeated  experience,  that  every  pleasure  is 
multiplied  by  the  participation  of  others.  This  will 
render  truth,  fidelity,  tenderness,  compassion,  generosity, 
and  benevolence,  not  as  they  now  are,  matters  of  senti- 
mental antithesis,  of  poetical  ornament,  and  oratorical 
enthusiasm;  but  dispositions  essential  to  the  mind,  prin- 
ciples interwoven  with  its  constitution,  and  habits  it  must 
be  under  the  necessity  of  indulging. — Williams. 

I  have  endeavored  as  much  as  possible  to  familiarize 
my  children  to  those  things  that  excite  terror  and  disgust. 
In  their  infancy  we  accustomed  them  to  look  at  and  even 
to  touch  spiders,  frogs  and  mice.  It  was  enough  to  set 
them  the  example,  and  they  soon  wished  to  have  them 
and  bring  them  up.  I  have  seen  Adelaide  weep  at  the 
death  of  her  favorite  frog  and  show  as  much  grief  as  if 
she  had  lost  the  most  beautiful  canary-bird.  When  it 
has  thundered  and  lightened,  every  body  near  them  has 
cried  out,  4 'what  a  charming  sight!  look  at  the  clouds 
and  the  flashes  of  lightning!"  and  the  children  have  been 
delighted  to  sit  at  the  windows  to  watch  the  pregress  of 
the  storm. 

Locke  and  Rousseau  have  both  said,  that  you  should 
never  pity  children  when  they  fall  down  and  hurt  them- 
selves. In  my  opinion,  if  you  do  not  soothe  them  when 
really  hurt,  you  run  a  great  risk  of  hardening  their  hearts, 
I  think  therefore  when  they  suffer  any  misfortune  or  ac- 
cident, they  ought  to  be  pitied,  provided  they  do  not 
complain;  but  if  they  scream  and  cry  violently  [and  un- 
necessarily] I  would  appear  to  disregard  them,  and  let 
them  see  that  your  contempt  stifles  your  compassion.  As 
in  every  thing  else,  so  in  this;  you  must  yourself  set  the 
example.  If  you  can  not  suffer  pain  or  illness  without 
perpetually  complaining,  all  you  may  say  about  fortitude 
and  courage  will  make  but  little  impression. 

In  fact,  the  praise  of  sensibility  may  occasion  affectation 
and  hypocrisy  from  the  wish  of  hearing  it  repeated.  You 
should  never  praise  your  children  for  lively  and  quick 


268 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


sensibility,  but  for  habitual  and  constant  proofs  of  duty 
and  sweetness  of  temper. 

Never  avail  yourself  of  the  dangerous  stimulus  emula- 
tion but  with  the  utmost  precaution.  Take  a  great  care 
not  to  make  your  children  envious  of  each  other;  for  if 
ever  they  are  infected  with  the  dangerous  sentiment,  their 
hearts  will  be  irremediably  corrupted.  To  preserve  them 
from  this,  take  care  that  you  are  always  just.  At  that 
innocent  age  we  prefer  the  happiness  of  being  beloved, 
to  the  vain  pleasure  of  being  applauded.  For  this  rea- 
son a  child  who  might  enjoy  seeing  her  sister  commended 
for -some  accomplishment,  could  not  support  the  idea  of 
her  sister's  being  more  beloved  than  herself.  Convince 
your  children  that  your  heart  is  a  stranger  to  partiality 
and  that  you  believe  them  equally  affectionate;  be  equally 
just  in  your  praise  or  blame,  and  your  decrees  will  never 
produce  animosities. — Madame  de  Genlis. 

When  feeling  stimulates  only  to  self-indulgence,  when 
the  more  exquisite  affections  of  sympathy  and  pity  evapo- 
rate in  sentiment,  instead  of  flowing  out  in  active  charity 
exerting  itself  in  all  the  various  shapes  of  assistance, 
protection  or  consolation  for  every  species  of  distress,  it 
is  an  evidence  of  a  spurious  kind;  and,  instead  of  being 
nourished  as  an  amiable  tenderness,  it  should  be  subdued 
as  a  fond  and  base  self-love. — More. 


SENSIBILITY. 
Yet  while  I  hail  the  sympathy  divine, 
Which  makes,  oh  man,  the  wants  of  others  thine, 
I  mourn  heroic  justice  scarcely  owned 
And  principle  for  sentiment  dethroned! 
While  feeling  boasts  her  ever  tearful  eye, 
Stern  truth,  firm  faith,  and  manly  virtue  fLy  I 

As  the  strong  feeling  tends  to  good  or  ill, 
It  gives  fresh  power  to  vice  or  principle; 
'Tis  not  peculiar  to  the  wise  and  good, 
Tis  passion's  flame,  the  virtue  of  the  blood. 


SENSIBILITY. 


269 


But  to  divert  it  to  its  proper  course, 

There  wisdom's  power  appears,  there  reason's  force. 

If  ill-directed  it  pursues  the  wrong, 

It  adds  new  strength  to  what  before  was  strong; 

Breaks  out  in  wild  irregular  desires, 

Disordered  passions,  and  illicit  fires. 

But  if  the  virtuous  bias  rule  the  soul, 

This  lovely  feeling  then  adorns  the  whole, 

Sheds  its  sweet  sunshine  on  the  moral  part, 

Nor  wastes  on  fancy  what  should  warm  the  heart. 

Mrs.  Hannah  More. 
Were  knowledge  indeed  the  one  thing  needful,  and  did 
the  cultivation  of  the  heart  form  but  a  secondary  part  of 
our  plan  of  education,  we  might,  without  scruple,  pre- 
possess the  minds  of  our  pupils  against  the  vulgar  and 
the  ignorant.  But  as  knowledge  is  only  valuable  in  pro- 
portion as  it  has  a  tendency  to  promote  social  and  individ- 
ual happiness,  by  giving  new  motives  to  virtue,  and  thus 
extending  the  influence  of  the  benevolent  affections,  and 
counteracting  or  extirpating  the  malevolent,  it  follows, 
that  whatever  produces  a  tendency  to  the  malevolent  pas- 
sions, defeats  the  noblest  purposes  for  which  knowledge 
has  ever  been  acquired. 

Wherever  the  selfish  passions  predominate,  the  social 
and  benevolent  affections  must  be  proportionably  de- 
creased. Pride,  as  a  selfish  passion,  is  particularly  inim- 
ical to  the  influence  of  benevolence;  while  humility,  by 
depreciating  the  value  of  our  own  superior  attainments, 
and  striking  off  the  exaggerations  of  self-love,  permits  us 
to  dwell  upon  the  excellencies  of  others,  and  is  therefore 
productive  of  the  benevolent  affections. 

Whatever  tends  to  inspire  children  with  a  high  opinion 
of  their  own  comparative  importance,  whatever  annexes 
to  the  idea  of  situation,  independent  of  worth  or  virtue, 
ideas  of  contempt  or  complacency,  will  certainly  coun- 
teract our  design  of  inspiring  them  with  humility.  The 
light  in  which  children  are  generally  taught  to  consider 
servants,  must  infallibly,  at  a  very  early  age,  produce  this 
high  opinion  of  their  own  comparative  importance;  an 
importance  which  they  must  attach  to  situation,  and 
which  must  therefore  necessarily  be  productive  of  the 


270 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


pride  of  rank  and  power,  a  pride  whicn  we  would  vainly 
endeavor  to  reconcile  with  true  Christian  humanity. 

The  corruption  and  depravity  of  servants  is  a  general 
theme.  From  whence  does  it  proceed  but  from  the  cor- 
ruption and  depravity  of  their  superiors  ?  Governed  by 
the  selfishness  of  luxury  and  pride,  we  concern  ourselves 
no  farther  with  the  morals  of  our  domestics,  than  is 
necessary  to  the  preservation  of  our  property.  No  qual- 
ities are  regarded  in  them  but  such  as  contribute  to  the 
gratification  of  our  ease  or  convenience.  Their  virtues 
are  unrewarded  by  our  esteem,  their  vices,  provided  they 
do  not  immediately  injure  us,  unpunished  by  our  disap- 
probation. 

Pride  prevents  us  from  undertaking  what  policy  would 
dictate.  We  feel  it  too  mortifying  to  represent  to  beings 
so  much  beneath  us,  that  we  are  the  creatures  of  the 
same  God,  that  we  are  to  be  judged  by  the  same  laws, 
and  that  in  a  few  fleeting  years  no  other  distinction  shall 
be  found  between  us  except  that  of  virtue.  The  moral 
precepts  of  our  religion  it  may  not  indeed  be  convenient 
to  dwell  upon,  as  we  must  blush  to  recommend  rules  to 
their  practice,  which  seldom  govern  our  own.  The 
golden  precept  of  doing  as  we  would  be  done  by,  may  per- 
haps sometimes  occur  to  us  in  our  transactions  with  our 
equals,  but  it  seems  as  if  we  had  some  clause  of  excep- 
tion with  regard  to  our  behavior  to  those  of  an  inferior 
station.  We  consider  not  them  as  beings  endowed  with 
passions  and  feelings  similar  to  our  own.  Wrapped  up  in 
our  prerogative  we  provoke  the  one  with  impunity,  and 
insult  the  other  without  remorse. — Letters  on  Education, 
by  Miss  Hamilton. 

The  faults  of  the  poor  arise  from  a  disadvantageous 
situation.  The  contagion  of  bad  example  is  generally 
caught  by  the  lower  from  the  higher  orders;  and  I  see 
nothing  very  exemplary  in  our  own  conduct,  to  induce 
me  to  doubt  but  that  the  poor  are  as  good  and  as  prudent, 
and  as  industrious,  as  we  should  have  been  in  the  same 
circumstances,  and  under  the  same  disadvantages.  If  this 
be  conceded,  the  vices  and  faults  of  the  poor  must  be 
deemed  the  vices  and  faults  of  an  unfavorable  situation, 
rather  than  of  individual  delinquency.    Eemove  those 


BENEVOLENCE. 


271 


disadvantages,  and  you  add  as  much  to  moral  character 
as  to  personal  comfort. — Reports  of  the  Society  for  better- 
ing  the  condition  of  the  poor,  by  Thomas  Bernard, 

The  Horrors  of  Slavery. — To  invite  attention  to  this 
melancholy  subject,  and  to  excite  sympathy  for  the  suf- 
fering, is  the  object  of  this  publication.  The  compiler 
firmly  believes  that  his  countrymen  stand  exposed  to  the 
righteous  rebukes  of  Providence  for  this  glaring  incon- 
sistency and  inhumanity  ;  that  whether  they  shall  be  tried 
at  the  bar  of  reason,  the  bar  of  conscience,  or  the  bar  of 
God,  they  may  justly  be  condemned  out  of  their  own 
mouths;  and  that  all  their  arguments,  and  all  their 
fightings  for  liberty,  may  be  produced  as  evidence,  that 
as  a  people,  they  do  unto  others  as  they  would  not  that 
others  should  do  unto  them.  The  suffering  and  degraded 
sons  of  Africa,  are  groaning  under  bondage  in  a  land  of 
boasted  freedom;  nay,  groaning  under  oppression  from 
the  hands  of  men  who  would  probably  involve  a  whole 
nation  in  war  and  bloodshed,  or  even  set  the  ivorld  on  fire 
rather  than  submit  to  a  fiftieth  part  of  the  violation  of 
natural  rights,  which  they  inflict  on  the  African  race. 

Whenever  the  government  of  the  United  States  shall 
come  to  the  righteous  and  consistent  determination,  that 
all  the  inhabitants  shall  be  free,  it  is  believed  that  no 
insurmountable  obstacles  will  be  found  in  the  way  of  its 
accomplishment.  Whether  it  would  be  just,  and  equal, 
and  eligible,  to  take  money  from  the  public  treasury  to 
redeem  African  slaves,  may  possibly  become  a  question 
for  the  consideration  of  Congress.  It  may  not,  however, 
be  amiss  for  the  people  to  inquire  whether  it  would  be 
more  just  and  equitable  to  continue  to  withhold  from 
more  than  a  million  [now  two  millions]  of  our  fellow 
beings  those  essential  blessings,  writhout  which  we  our- 
selves should  consider  life  insupportable. 

If  it  should  be  pleaded,  that  the  powers  of  the  general 
government  are  too  limited  to  ensure  the  personal,  civil, 
and  religious  liberties  of  all,  can  a  doubt  be  entertained 
of  the  readiness  of  the  people,  when  they  fairly  under- 
stand the  subject,  to  enlarge  those  powers  to  any  extent 
necessary  for  the  attainment  of  an  object  of  such  trans- 
cendent importance?    To  say  4 4 they  would  not,"  would 


272 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


be  to  utter  a  most  shameful  libel  against  a  majority  of 
the  freemen  of  the  United  States. — John  Kenrick. 

Many  benevolent  minds  suffer  their  excellent  disposi- 
tions for  doing  good  to  remain  unemployed  in  the  great 
service  of  Christian  charity,  not  for  want  of  means,  or 
of  objects,  but  for  want  of  knowing  what  good  may  be 
done  within  their  own  sphere,  and  how.  Genuine  Christ- 
ianity is  the  union  of  pure  devotion  with  universal  be- 
nevolence.— The  Bishop  of  Durham. 

The  pleasures  of  benevolence  are  those  which  we  feel 
in  contemplating  the  happiness  of  those  we  love.  We 
may  call  them  pleasures  of  sympathy,  or  pleasures  of  the 
social  affections.  Their  power  is  more  or  less  expansive. 
They  may  be  concentrated  in  a  narrow  circle,  or  embrace 
the  whole  human  family.  Benevolence  may  apply  itself 
even  to  animals,  of  which  we  love  either  the  species  or 
individuals;  the  signs  of  their  comfort  agreeably  affect 
us.  The  pains  of  benevolence  are  such  as  we  experience 
at  the  sight  or  thought  of  suffering,  whether  to  our  own 
species,  or  to  brutes.  Emotions  of  pity  lead  us  to  weep 
for  the  woes  of  another  as  well  as  for  our  own. 

Instead  of  having  done  too  much  on  this  subject,  leg- 
islators have  not  done  enough;  they  should  have  made 
the  refusal,  or  omission  of  an  act  of  humanit}r,  a  crime, 
when  it  is  easy  to  render,  and  when  there  results  from 
the  refusal  any  misfortune:  to  abandon,  for  example,  a 
wounded  person  in  a  solitary  road,  without  looking  for 
help;  not  to  warn  a  person  who  is  handling  poison;  not 
to  reach  a  hand  to  another  who  has  fallen  overboard,  or 
into  a  place  out  of  which  he  can  not  escape  without  as- 
sistance. In  these  cases,  and  others  of  the  same  sort, 
who  would  complain  of  a  punishment  which  was  satis- 
fied by  exposing  the  delinquent  to  a  certain  degree  of 
shame,  or  by  rendering  him  responsible  in  his  fortune  for 
the  evil  which  he  might  have  prevented? 

I  may  observe  here,  tliat  the  legislature  should  have 
gone  somewhat  further  than  it  has  done,  relative  to  the 
interests  of  the  inferior  animals.  Not  that  I  approve  the 
law  of  the  Gentoos  in  that  respect.  There  are  good  rea- 
sons for  making  animals  serve  for  the  nourishment  of 
man,  and  for  destroying  those  who  are  troublesome  or 


BENEVOLENCE. 


273 


noxious.  We  are  the  better  for  it,  and  they  are  none  the 
worse,  for  they  are  not  troubled  as  we  are  with  long  and 
bitter  anticipations  of  the  future ;  and  the  death  which 
they  receive  from  us,  may  always  be  less  painful  than 
that  which  they  would  receive  in  the  inevitable  course 
of  nature.  But  what  can  we  say  to  justify  the  useless 
torments  which  they  are  made  to  suffer,  by  our  cruel 
whims?  Among  all  the  reasons  which  might  be  given 
for  declaring  gratuitous  cruelties  toward  them  a  crime, 
I  shall  confine  myself  to  that  which  relates  to  my  subject: 
it  is  a  means  of  cultivating  the  general  sentiment  of  be- 
nevolence, and  of  rendering  men  kinder,  or  at  least  of 
preventing  that  brutal  depravity,  which,  after  having 
amused  itself  with  animals,  may  require,  in  its  after 
growth  to  be  assuaged  by  human  suffering.* — Rev.  M. 
DumonVs  Bentham. 

The  friends  of  humanity  will  read  the  above  with 
pleasure.  They  are  beginning  to  perceive  and  to  ac- 
knowledge, that  the  dumb  beast  may  be  legislated  for, 
without  a  derogation  of  dignity.  And  why  not,  if  he 
may  be  tortured  to  death  by  man,  without  reproach  to 
his  dignity? 

A  friend  has  added  a  note  here,  which  is  worth  pre- 
serving.— John  Neal. 

This  is  a  subject  which  passes  in  view  with  every 
humane  and  enlightened  mind.  I  have  quieted  my  con- 
science upon  this  matter  without  robbing  my  stomach, 
by  believing  that  population,  applying  the  word  to  man 
and  beast,  is  governed  entirely  by  the  means  of  subsist- 
ence. Man  is  checked  by  a  regard  to  consequences — the 
brute  creation  can  be  restrained  only  by  regulating  sex- 
ual intercourse,  or  by  violent  death. 

*  See  the  voyage  of  Barrow  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope;  and  the 
cruelty  of  the  Dutch  colonists  toward  the  inferior  animals  and  the 
slaves  there. 


(  274  ) 


f  TREATMENT  OF  THE  INSANE. 

Insanity,  with  its  causes,  its  probable  increase,  and  its 
treatment,  is  a  subject  of  deep  interest  to  every  civilized 
community.  In  the  Pennsylvania  hospital,  the  cells  are 
warmed  by  fire  places  completely  inclosed  within  the 
walls,  so  that  the  inhabitant  is  comfortable  without  ac- 
cess to  the  fire.  During  the  day,  the  lunatics  find  exer- 
cise and  employment  in  large  rooms,  or  in  fair  weather 
in  shady  court  yards.  The  use  of  metallic  chains  is 
forbidden — the  substitute  for  them  being  composed  of 
links  of  strong  band  leather.  The  straight  jacket  is  also 
nearly  out  of  use.  Straps  buckling  over  the  arms,  or 
sleeves  enclosing  the  whole  hand  and  loosely  fastened  at 
the  end  to  a  waistband,  so  as  in  both  instances  to  admit 
of  as  great  freedom  of  motion  as  possible,  are  the  modes 
adopted  for  confining  the  disorderly. 

In  the  Connecticut  asylum,  the  first  business  of  the 
physician,  on  the  admission  of  the  patient,  is,  to  gain 
his  entire  confidence.  With  this  view,  he  is  treated  with 
the  greatest  kindness;  however  violent  his  conduct  may 
be,  he  is  allowed  all  the  liberty  which  his  case  admits 
of,  and  is  made  to  understand,  if  his  case  is  still  capable 
of  reflection,  that  so  far  from  having  arrived  at  a  mad 
house  where  he  is  to  be  confined,  he  has  come  to  a  pleas- 
ant and  peaceful  residence,  where  all  kindness  and  atten- 
tion will  be  shown  him,  and  where  every  means  will  be 
employed  for  the  recovery  of  his  health>  In  case  coertion 
and  confinement  become  necessary,  it  is  impressed  upon 
his  mind  that  this  is  not  done  for  the  purpose  of  punish- 
ment, but  for  his  own  safety  and  that  of  his  keepers. 
In  no  case  is  deception  on  the  patient  employed  or  al- 
lowed, on  the  contrary  the  greatest  frankness,  as  well  as 
kindness,  forms  a  part  of  his  moral  treatment.  His 
case  is  explained  to  him,  and  he  is  made  to  understand 
as  far  as  possible  the  reasons  why  the  treatment  to  which 
he  is  subjected  has  become  necessary.  By  this  course  of 
intellectual  treatment  it  has  been  found  as  a  matter  of 
experience  at  our  institution,  that  patients  who  had  al- 


DRINKING  SONG. 


275 


ways  been  raving,  when  confined  without  being  told  the 
reason,  and  refractory  when  commanded  instead  of  being 
entreated,  soon  became  peaceable  and  docile. 

In  the  private  asylum  also  of  Dr.  Chaplin,  at  Cam- 
bridge, the  method  was  a  moral  one.  In  common  cases 
he  used  no  medicines  but  occasional  saline  purgatives. 
Coertion  and  confinement  were  but  little  employed,  and 
violence  made  no  part  of  the  system.  It  was  by  his  pe- 
culiar, calm,  commanding  manner,  and  admirable  judg- 
ment in  conversing  with  his  patients  that  he  succeeded 
in  softening  the  obstinate  and  controlling  the  violent. 
To  moral  modes  of  treatment  he  added  a  careful  regimen 
and  great  exercise. — T.  Romeyn  Beck. 


DRINKING  SONG. 

Fill,  fill  the  cup,  the  bowl,  the  glass, 

With  wine  and  spirits  high; 
And  we  will  drink  while  round  they  pass, 

To — vice  and  misery! 

Push  quickly  round  the  draught  again, 

And  drain  the  goblet  low; 
And  drink  in  revelry's  swelling  strain, 

To — reason's  overthrow! 

Push  round,  push  round,  in  quickest  time 

The  lowest  drop  be  spent 
In  one  loud  round,  to — guilt  and  crime, 

And  crime's  just  punishment! 

Fill,  fill  again!  fill  to  the  brim 

To — loss  of  honest  fame! 
Quaff,  deeper  quaff !  while  now  we  drink — 

Our  wives'  and  children's  shame! 

Push  round,  and  round,  with  loudest  cheers 

Of  mirth  and  revelry! 
We  drink  to — woman's  sighs  and  tears! 

And — children's  poverty! 


276 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


Once  more!  while  power  shall  yet  remain, 

E'en  with  its  latest  breath, 
Drink — to  ourselves  disease  and  pain, 

And  infamy  and  death! 

The  Medical  Remedy  for  Intemperance,  used  by  Dr. 
Loiseau,  of  New  Orleans,  and  Dr.  Chambers,  of  New 
York,  was  in  substance  as  follows:  To  a  mixture  of 
ipecacuana  and  assafetida,  add  two  or  three  grains  of 
tartar  emetic:  take  a  portion  of  this  compound  in  a 
glass  of  the  favorite  liquor  every  morning  for  a  week. 
This  remedy,  by  exciting  a  nauseous  association,  proved 
efficacious  in  many  cases  for  a  time;  but  the  most  impor- 
tant point  is  to  mitigate  the  intolerable  habitual  craving 
for  drink,  by  substituting  the  milder  kinds  of  beverage, 
as  pure  water,  lemonade,  water  mixed  with  molasses  and 
ginger,  or,  with  molasses  and  vinegar  (called  switchel), 
coffee,  tea,  fruit,  &c,  and  in  no  case  stronger  drink 
than  cider,  mild  beer,  or  light  wine. — New  York  Paper. 


GAMING. 

Whence  sprung  the  accursed  lust  of  play, 
Which  beggars  thousands  in  a  day? 
Now  man  profanes  his  reasoning  powers, 
Profanes  sweet  friendship's  sacred  hours; 
Abandoned  to  inglorious  ends, 
And  faithless  to  himself  and  friends; 
A  dupe  to  every  artful  knave, 
To  every  abject  wish  a  slave: 
But  who  against  himself  combines, 
Abets  his  enemy's  designs. 
When  rapine  meditates  a  blow, 
He  shares  the  guilt  who  aids  the  foe. 
Is  a  man  a  thief  who  steals  my  pelf — 
How  great  his  theft  who  robs  himself! 
Is  man  who  gulls  his  friends  a  cheat — 
How  heinous  then  is  self  deceit! 
Should  custom  plead,  as  custom  will, 


THE  SUFFERINGS  OF  BRUTES. 


277 


Grand  precedents  to  palliate  ill, 

Shall  modes  and  forms  avail  with  me, 

When  reason  disavows  the  plea? 

Who  games,  is  felon  of  his,wealth, 

His  time,  his  liberty,  his  health: 

Virtue  forsakes  his  sordid  mind, 

And  honor  scorns  to  stay  behind. 

From  man  when  these  bright  cherubs  part, 

Ah,  what 's  the  poor  deserted  heart! — Cotton. 


In  man's  controlled,  controlling  destiny, 

Two  coessential  principles  combine, 

And  o'er  the  moral  world  hold  sovereign  sway: 

Passion  the  moving  power,  the  gniding,  reason. 

Their  mutual  office  to  support  and  cherish 

The  human  heart,  and  yield  it  happiness. 

But  when  wild  passion  rises  'gainst  its  colleague, 

Tugs  fiercely,  and  with  dart  deep  rankling  tortures 

To  madness  the  o'erstrained  heart,  firm  conscience  then 

In  turn  torments;  and  steeps  stern  justice's  sword 

In  gore;  to  save  its  valued  charge,  employs 

The  despot's  slave-creating  power — coertion. 

Thus  alas!  each  struggling  for  the  mastery, 

The  victim,  doubly  devoted,  rudely  torn 

By  its  own  guards,  dissolves  in  tears  of  blooc1, 

And  until  callous  grown  or  rent  in  twain, 

Soils  and  ensanguines  earth's  maternal  face. 

Rowley. 


The  Sufferings  of  Brutes. — [Father  Bougeant,  a 
Jesuit,  in  his  treatise  on  the  souls  of  brutes,  in  order  to 
find  some  possible  palliative  for  man's  cruelty,  main- 
tains that  the  brutes  are  animated  by  evil  spirits,  or 
devils.] 

Persuaded  as  we  are  that  beasts  have  intelligence, 
have  we  not  all  of  us  a  thousand  times  pitied  them  for 
the  excessive  evils  which  the  majority  of  them  are  ex- 
25 


278 


SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 


posed  to  and  in  reality  suffer?  How  unhappy  is  the 
condition  of  horses!  we  are  apt  to  say  upon  seeing  a 
horse  that  an  unmerciful  cartman  is  murdering  with 
blows.  How  miserable  is  a  dog  whom  they  are  breaking 
for  hunting!  How  dismal  is  the  fate  of  the  beasts  living 
in  the  woods!  exposed  to  the  injuries  of  the  weather; 
always  seized  with  apprehensions  of  becoming  the  prey 
of  more  wild  animals,  or  of  the  hunters;  often  suffering 
cruel  hunger,  subject  moreover  to  illness  and  death.  If 
men  are  subject  to  a  multitude  of  miseries  that  over- 
vrhelm  them,  religion  acquaints  us  with  the  reason  of  it, 
viz:  their  being  born  sinners.  But  what  crimes  can 
beasts  have  committed  by  birth,  to  be  subject  to  evils  so 
very  cruel?  What  are  we  then  to  think  of  the  horrible 
e  xcesses  of  miseries  undergone  by  beasts,  miseries  indeed 
often  far  greater  than  those  endured  by  men?  This  is  in 
any  other  system  an  incomprehensible  mystery;  whereas 
nothing  is  more  easy  to  be  conceived  from  the  system  I 
propose.  The  rebellious  spirits  deserve  a  punishment 
Still  more  rigorous,  and  happy  it  is  for  them  that  their 
punishment  is  deferred.  In  a  word,  God's  goodness  is 
vindicated,  and  man  himself  is  justified;  for  what  right 
can  man  have  without  necessity,  and  often  in  the  way 
of  mere  diversion,  to  take  away  the  lives  of  millions  of 
beasts,  if  God  has  not  authorized  us  so  to  do  ?  And 
beasts  being  as  sensible  as  ourselves  of  pain  and  death, 
how  could  a  just  and  merciful  God  have  given  man  that 
privilege,  if  they  were  not  so  many  guilty  victims  of  di- 
vine vengeance  ? — Bougeant. 

Des  Cartes  maintained,  that  brutes  are  mere  inanimate 
machines,  devoid  of  all  reason,  thought,  and  perception, 
and  that  all  their  actions  are  only  the  consequence  of  the 
exquisite  mechanism  of  their  bodies.  This  opinion  of  Des 
Cartes  was  probably  invented,  or  at  least  adopted  by 
him  to  defeat  two  great  objections: 

One  against  the  souls  of  brutes  if  they  were  allowed 
to  have  any;  the  other  against  the  goodness  of  God,  in 
suffering  creatures  who  have  never  sinned  to  be  subject 
to  so  many  miseries. — Encyclopedia. 

There  is  nothing  more  certain  than  that  the  reason  of 
the  thing  shows  us  no  connection  between  death  and  the 


HUNTING. 


279 


destruction  of  living  agents.  Nor  can  we  find  any  thing 
throughout  the  whole  analogy  of  nature,  to  afford  us 
even  the  slightest  presumption,  that  animals  ever  lose 
their  living  powers;  much  less,  if  it  were  possible,  that 
they  lose  them  by  death ;  for  we  have  no  faculties  where- 
with to  trace  any  beyond  or  through  it,  so  as  to  see  what 
becomes  of  them.  This  event  removes  them  from  our 
view.  It  destroys  the  sensible  proof,  which  we  had  before 
their  death,  of  their  being  possessed  of  living  powers. 

Butlers  Analogy  of  Religion. 

[To  the  previous  hypotheses  of  Bougeant  and  Des 
Cartes,  the  answer  is,  that  if  brutes  exist  hereafter,  they 
may  then  be  compensated  for  man's  cruelties;  but  if 
(since  they  are  devoid  of  the  moral  faculty)  they  are  at 
death  resolved  into  their  constituent  elements  to  form 
new  sentient  organizations  unconscious  of  prior  exist- 
ence, still  the}',  in  common  with  the  entire  mass  of  sensi- 
tive nature,  of  which,  though  transmuted,  they  continue 
to  form  a  part,  will  enjoy  an  aggregate  of  comfort,  since 
the  larger  portion  of  sentient  beings  are  happily  placed 
beyond  man's  tyrannic  control. 

But  the  immense  multitudes  while  in  his  power:  what 
enormous  sufferings  do  they  not  endure  from  his  igno- 
rance and  blind  selfishness.  Let  every  humane  person 
reflect  how  very  large  is  the  number  of  feeling  creatures, 
whose  labors  and  lives  are  absorbed  by  each  individual 
of  his  own  species;  in  the  severe  toils  of  agriculture, 
heavy  transportation  and  traveling;  in  yielding  their 
flesh  for  his  daily  subsistence,  or  their  lives  for  his  ne- 
cessities, convenience  or  caprice.  If  the  still,  small 
voice  of  conscience  were  heard,  each  individual  would 
strive  to  practice  clemency  himself  to  the  extent  of  his 
own  responsibility,  and  by  his  example  and  influence 
instruct  and  reform  others:  and  the  contractors  and  pro- 
prietors of  canals,  railroads,  mails,  and  the  wholesale 
suppliers  of  the  market,  having  in  their  charge  collected 
myriads  of  animals,  might  with  a  proportionable  facility 
be  guided  by  legislation  and  popular  sentiment  to  the 
fulfillment  of  their  weighty  duty.  This — the  most  ex- 
tensive but  the  most  neglected  sphere  for  the  operation 
of  virtue,  imperiously  demands  the  united  action  of  the 


280  SPIRIT  OF  HUMANITY. 

press,  and  the  pulpit  ;  the  strong  arm  of  the  law  and  the 
all-controlling  voice  of  public  opinion. 

After  the  creation,  God  pronounced  every  creature 
that  he  had  made  4 4 very  good,"  and  after  the  flood  he 
" established  his  covenant  with  every  living  creature  of 
all  flesh,"  to  man  he  gave  dominion  over  them.  Let 
those  who  abuse  or  prevent  this  power,  delegated  to  them 
from  the  fountain  of  goodness  and  justice,  remember  that 
it  is  also  written: 

44 Wo  unto  the  world  because  of  offences;  for  it  must 
need  be  that  offences  come,  but,  too  to  that  man  by  whom 
the  offence  cometh!"] 


THE  END. 


INDEX 


Page. 

The  Universality  of  Divine  Providence,  Bible   xiii 

Pythagoras  Rees1  Cyclopedia   1 

Langhorne   4 

Ovid   18 

Seneca   116 

Dodsley     238 

Plutarch  Langhorne   4 

Agathias     6 

Hayley   7 

Pope    10 

His  Fables   232 

Seneca's  Morals  (on  conscience) . .  .  Torreyh  Moral  Instructor. ...  67 

Axioms,  &c  Pythagoras   2 

Aristotle   156 

Grotius   197 

Cicero,  M.  Aurelius,  St.  Chry- 

sostom,  St.  Augustine, ... .  242 
Terence,  Tacitus.  Zimmerman, 

Montesquieu,  Gay,  Cowper,  243 

Montaigne  .   15 

Young,  Fenclon ............  244 

Fables,  The  Boy  and  the  Frogs...  Esop   237 

The  Wolf  and  the  Lamb     t;    237 

The  Ass  and  the  Tyrant     u    237 

The  Lion  and  the  Man....    41    238 

The  Wolf  and  the  Shepherds  Plutarch   238 

Vice  and  Fortune                    u    238 

Pythagoras  and  the  Critic  Dodsley   238 

The  Bear                               "    239 

Wild  Boar  and  the  Sheep .  Gay   240 

The  Adder  and  the  Traveler  Pilpay   19 

Proverbs,  comments  by                    Thomas  Fielding   241 

Select  Maxims                              Henry  Home  (Lord  Karnes) . .  38 

The  Hindoos                                  Encyclopedia  Britannica ....  7 

The  Bramin                                   James  Montgomery   10 

The  Laws  of  Nature                      Rev.  Richard  Cumberland..  262 

Paley   262 

The  Passions  and  Affections            Francis  Hutcheson   243 

Nature  Delineated                         William  Wollaston,_   263 


282 


INDEX. 


Practical  Morality  

Essay  on  Man  

Moral  Sentiment  

Happiness   

Moral  Science  

Moral  Practice  

Moral  Philosophy  

Economy  of  Human  life 
Isaac  Newton  

Uncle  Toby  

John  Howard  


The  State  of  Prisons    

Civility  and  Good  Breeding  

To  Superiors,  Equals,  84;  To 
Inferiors,  85:  Morality,  88; 
Rule  of  Action,  90. 

Peevishness  

Truth  

Humanity  

Gentleness  

Amiableness  

Affections  and  Passions  

Love,  246;  Hatred,  247;  Sym- 
pathy, 248;  Horror,  249;  Vir- 
tue, Happiness.  251. 

Mercy  

Ingratitude  

Pleasures  of  the  Imagination.... 

Love  Rejected  

Highland  Mary  

Woman  

Primeval  Innocence  

Miseries  of  Life  

The  Tear  

Benevolence   

Pity  


Sensfbility  

Sensibility  perverted. 
Reason  and  Passion.  . 
Seduction  T.. 

Gaming  


Pago. 


William  Penn   69 

Alexander  Pope   21 

Mam  Ferguson   72 

  74 

James  B-atiie   163 

James  Hay  Bcattie   165 

Gros   171 

Robert  Dodsley   81 

Thomas  Thomson   14 

Encyclopedia  Britannica   14 

Laurence  Sterne   23 

Biographical  Dictionary   46 

Burke   49 

Hay  ley   50 

Coicprr,  Bowles   51 

Darwin    258 

John  Howard   256 

Chesterfield   83 


Samuel  Johnson   56 

Hugh  Blair   52 

4;   53 

"    54 

Hannah  More   162 

T.  Cogan   246 


Shakspeare  ,   13 

  252 

Mark  A 'ken side   26 

George  Kcate   254 

Shenstone  »   252 

Burns   254 

Ledyard   255 

James  Thomson  ,   78 

u           "    80 

Rogers   256 

Jjooking- Glass  for  the  Mind. .  158 

Murray's  Reader   173 

Erasmus  Darwin.   260 

John  Henry  Canoll   232 

Hannah  More   166 

"        "    268 

Rowley   277 

Hawkesworth   37 

Wolcott   116 

Dr.  Cotton   276 


INDEX. 


283 


Page 

Intemperance.   N.  Y.  Journal  of  Commerce. .  27* 

Medical  Remedy   New  York  Newspaper   276 

Treatment  of  the  Insane   T.  Romcyn  Beck  274 

War,  its  causes   Jonathan  Swift   97 

Its  cruelties   u  k    98 

Hawkesworth   99 

Locke   11 

Miss  Williams   100 

Hannah  More   101 

Battle  Song   The  Recruiting  Sergeant   100 

Pugilism   Viccsimus  Knox   159 

The  Gladiator   Byron   101 

The  Indians   James  Buchannan   157 

Slavery  (the  captive)   Sterne   23 

Hippobion   145 

African  Slavery   Homer,  Longinus,  Tacitus...  147 

Pliny,  Roll  in,  Le  Poivre   148 

Montesquieu   147 

Beat  tie   143 

Br.  Primates  Dissertation.  . .  156 

Coivper   154 

The  Slave  Trade   Wilberforce,  Fox   149 

Montgomery   145 

Southey   144 

Slave  Trade  in  United  States....  Jefferson   149 

Kosciusco  t   155 

Horrors  of  Slavery   John  Kcnrick   271 

Protest  Against  Slavery   D.  O' Council,  Mrs.  Sigourney  155 

General  Assembly  of  th e  Church  153 

Robert  J.  Breckenridgc   151 

GeniusUniv.  Eman.,  E.  Lewis  150 

Independence......  Smollet   156 

The  Horse  (Turkish  treatment  of)  Burbcquius   130 

Hawkesworth   31 

•  Hogarth   94 

Mrs  Barbauld.   212 

Buffon,  Sporting  Mag  202 

Gay    226 

Sonnini,  Gay   126 

Jenyns   42 

Prior   129 

Duke  of  Hamilton.  Sampson. .  205 
Bishop  Porteus,  Kcate,  Burck- 

hardt   204 

Old  Colony  Memorial   210 

Docking   En.  Brit.,  Brooklyn  Star,...  214 

Nicking  ^.   N.  Y.  Workingmcn's  Advocate  212 

Farrier* $  Dictionary  213 

-Racing   Lord  Herbert ...   131 

Cowper   51 


284 


INDEX. 


Pa^c. 

Report  against  racing             New  York  State  Documents..  136 

Laws  against  racing               Revised  Statutes   135 

Rational  Training                  Virgil   137 

HoyVs  Cavalry   129 

Encyclopedia  Britannica   214 

Supplement  to       do         ....  132 
Edinburgh  Encyclopedia  ....  206 
The  Farmer's  Series  of  the  Li- 
brary of  Useful  Knowledge.  217 

Canal  Horses     Trans    of  Albany  Institute, 

G.  W.  F   133 

The  Post  Horse                             Robert  Bloomficld   128 

The  High  Mettled  Racer                Dibdin   203 

To  My  Horse                                Edward  Lytton  Bulwer   136 

The  Mule   Peter  Pindar^  Wonders  of  the 

Horse   131 

The  Ass                                        Natural  History   199 

Sterne   200 

The  Ox  (training  of)                    Virgil    137 

Dictionary  of  Art   138 

Bull  Baiting                                 Note  to  Childe  Harold   185 

Sporting  Anecdotes   186 

Cows                                             Jessie's  Gleanings   176 

The  Sheep                                   Robert  L.  Livingston   196 

The  Dog                                      Encyclopedia   186 

Sport ing  Dictionary   187 

Treatment  oi                         Hogarth   93 

Pope   138 

Newton   14 

Cruelty  to                              J.  Goldsmith   187 

Satirical  Verses                     Dibdin   188 

Early  Friendship  for               Tablet  of  Taste   139 

The  Wolf                                    Bakewell   199 

The  Badger                                 J.  Macloc   123 

The  Squirrel                                William  Ray   198 

The  Dormouse                              The  Port  Folio  *. . .  180 

The  Lady  Bird                              Charlotte  Smith   179 

Hens  and  Geese                             Colman's  Anecdotes   124 

\    Cruelty  to  Vermin                        Voice  of  Humanity   123 

The  Wounded  Deer   44 

Hunting..                                   Shakspcare    45 

The  King  of  Prussia,  Encyc. 

Britannica,  Rousseau   226 

Chesterfield   91 

Jenyns   43 

Chalmers.,,    103 

Burns   45 

Sturm's*  Reflections   66 

Hunting  Ballad                             Burger,  trans,  by  Walter  Scott  222 

The  Hunter's  Horn   225 


INDEX. 


285 


Page. 

The  Birds   Shenstone  253 

The  Captive  Starling              Sterne   23 

Hawkesworth   34 

/.  O'Ryan,  tr.  by  C.  Brooke.  182 

James  Grahame   229 

Sturm   65 

Wolcott   114 

North  American  Review   181 

Confinement                           Dublin  Penny  Journal   190 

The  Factory                                 Grahame   231 

Fishes                                          Byron     183 

Col.  Thornton,  Finch   184 

Whales                                         George  Colman   124 

The  Bees                                     Thomson,  Encyc.  Britannica.  192 

Modes  of  saving  their  lives.  Wheeler's  Travels  in  Greece, 

American  Farmer   193 

Rev,  Mr.  White   194 

A  Metempsychosis                        Hawkesworth   30 

Cruelty  to  Animals                       Alexander  Pope   14 

Oliver  Goldsmith   30 

Soame  Jenyns   41 

Willia7n  Cowper   57 

C.  C  Sturm's  Reflections ....  6  L 

Laws  relating  to   140 

.  \   The  Island  of  Innocence                John  Wolcott   114 

The  Lost  Ship                                John  Henry  Canoll   232 

Progress  of  Cruelty                       William  Hogarth   92 

Its  First  Stage                       John  Truster   93 

Its  Second  Stage                            u    94 

Cruelty  in  Maturity                     u    95 

Sermon  on  Cruelty                        Thomas  Chalmers   102 

Anti  Vice  Society   J  22 

Cruel  Exhibitions                        Burton's  Lectures   167 

Menagerie                             Dubli?i  Penny  Journal   190 

Dancing  Animals                    Newspaper   182 

Humanity  to  Animals                   Buck's  Theological  Dictionary  176 

Thomas  Scott   125 

Bishop  of  Durham   272 

Pierre  Lyonnet,  Cuvier   178 

A.  Wilson,  Sparks   179 

Spurzheim     176 

Dr.  Percival   177 

Domestic  Animals                        New  England  Farmer   177 

Happiness  of                         E.Jesse   175 

Indiana  Disseminator   233 

The  Inferior  Orders                       Anonymous   233 

John  Mason  Good    235 

The  Sufferings  and  Souls  of  Brutes  Bougeant,  Dcs  Cartes,  Bishop 

Butler   277 


286 


INDEX. 


Page. 

Society  for  Bettering  the  Condi- 
tion of  the  Poor   Thomas  Bernard   270 

Society  for  the   Suppression  of 

Vice   122 

Criticism  on  do. .. .  *   Edinburgh  Review   122 

Society  for  Preventing  Cruelty  to 

Animals   123 


Laws  Against  Cruelty 


Education 


Bent  ham  by  S.  Dumont   272 

do        John  Neal   273 

Albany  Daily  Advertiser . ....  141 

"      Board  of  Health   140 

JV.  Y.  Revised  Statutes   142 

Ohio  Laws   143 

John  Locke   11 

Encyclopedia  Britannica   117 

Hogarth   91 

Trusler   93 

Anon  235 

Howard,  Hugo  Arnott   2.~>8 

Paley   119 

Williams  2G6 

Darwin   236 

Alison   71 

Mrs.  Macaulcy  Graham   1G9 

Madame  Dc  Genlis   2G7 

More  268 

Maria  Edgeworth,  170 

Miss  Hamilton   270 

N.  H.  and  Mass.  Constitution  119 
Washington,  De  Witt  Clinton  120 

Beazlcy   120 

Bulwer   121 

Joseph  Neef   160 

Lesson  for  Schools   232 

Proposition  for  devoting  U.  S. 

Lands  U9 


